All's Fair
by RainSW6
Summary: Harry Potter makes a magical mess in a desperate attempt to get rid of his feelings for his enemy, Draco Malfoy. In his final year at Hogwarts,Harry will learn just how powerful love can be. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

All's Fair By: RainSW6  
  
Chapter One  
  
It was exactly 1:00AM on a humid summer night when a crash was heard at the window of a small, nondescript house that sat far off an unused, long- forgotten dirt road. With a start, seventeen-year-old wizard Harry Potter sat bolt upright in bed. He had to blink confusedly at the dimly lit and still unfamiliar surroundings for a few seconds before he remembered where he was. His left hand had already moved automatically to a nightstand beside the bed to retrieve his glasses, when he realized his vision was perfectly clear without them.  
  
'The potion must have worked', Harry thought disappointedly, and allowed himself to pout.  
  
A second crash into the small room's only window made him jump as he noticed what had awoken him. A rather disgruntled tawny owl was slamming into the glass pane. When Harry hurriedly slid it open, the handsome bird landed on the sill and gave him an extra sharp nip on the hand as he removed a thick envelope from its beak.  
  
"Ouch!" He glared at it. "I don't think Professor McGonagall would be too happy to learn that a school owl attacked a student." The owl merely continued to look at him accusingly, as though he had intentionally kept his window shut just to make its delivery more difficult rather than to keep the heat out.  
  
Slightly miffed at the animal, Harry grudgingly got a dish of cold water from Hedwig's cage, where she was sleeping peacefully with her head under a feathered wing, and brought it back to the window for the tawny. The weather was extremely hot and stuffy outside, even for mid-August, and Harry knew the school's messenger must be exhausted from the exertion of the journey. His own snowy white pet hadn't been willing to venture out for a couple of nights now, preferring to relax inside the magically cooled house.  
  
Harry turned his attention to his mail, but found himself hesitant to open it. He knew it contained the same Hogwarts letter he had been sent for six previous years, and felt a pang at the knowledge that this would be the last time he would ever receive the yellowish envelope addressed in green ink. It had arrived a little late this year (it typically came around his birthday), but Harry assumed that maybe the delivery owl had been slightly confused as to his whereabouts since he had moved around so much this summer.  
  
He had started off back at his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's house as usual, but had only been there for about three weeks before he had gotten a surprisingly early, but very welcome, letter saying he was invited to his best friend Ron Weasley's house. After the better part of a week at the Burrow, however, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were needed at Grimmauld Place for Order of the Phoenix business, so Harry had joined them, along with Ron and his younger sister Ginny, to stay at the headquarters that had once been his now dead godfather's home. It had been depressing to say the least, despite having had over a year to mourn, and memories of Sirius had threatened to overwhelm him.  
  
He had been only too relieved when less than a week ago Remus Lupin, his former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, had stopped by and, immediately understanding of Harry's predicament, asked the teenager to spend the remainder of the summer with him at his house. Harry had eagerly accepted, and was thrilled when he saw the sign that said 'Marauder Lane' etched on the front door. His room here was cramped and minimally furnished, but having spent the majority of his life living in a tiny cupboard, to him it was a perfect place for solitude and thought.  
  
With a small sigh, Harry slowly tore open the envelope and unfolded the parchment within. He read the familiar words telling him to take the Hogwarts Express from King's Cross on 1 September. It felt strange to be reading clearly without his glasses resting on the rim of his nose, but he supposed he would get used to it.  
  
'Though I still don't think I should have had to get rid of them. Stupid Moody. Stupid Snape', he thought angrily, and rebelliously added, 'Stupid Dumbledore,' for good measure. He knew they had their reasons, but that didn't keep him from feeling bitter.  
  
In the back of his mind he could almost hear his friend Hermione Granger's voice scolding him out of his sulk: "Honestly, Harry, you're lucky to even be alive after what happened, so I don't think your spectacles are such a sacrifice." And Harry had to admit to himself that the Hermione-Voice was right.  
  
Harry had spent much of his sixth year trying to locate the wizard Peter Pettigrew, determined to relieve some of his grief for Sirius by capturing one of his godfather's worst enemies. Fate had been on his side. Near the end of term, he had learned that Wormtail had been spotted in Hogsmeade, and Harry had set off to find the rat traitor predictably hiding out at the Shrieking Shack.  
  
In what he had become to see as his annual life-threatening situation, he had fought in a wizard's duel with the man who had betrayed his parents and Sirius. He had been caught off-guard in a moment of plain bad luck, and Wormtail had wasted no time in shouting "Expelliarmus!" The disarming spell, with the power of Wormtail's metallic hand behind it, managed to not only make Harry lose his wand, but also knocked him clear off his feet. When he'd hit the ground, his round-shaped eyewear fell from his face, rendering his vision useless. He couldn't see his wand to retrieve it, and Wormtail had again taken advantage of his opponent's weakness.  
  
With Harry's hand still madly groping around the dusty floor for either his wand or glasses, Wormtail screamed out the Killing Curse, his own wand pointed directly at Harry. Harry barely had time to register the words Avada Kedevra and an explosion of green light before he foolishly threw his hands in front of him in a desperate attempt to protect himself. When the spell didn't hit, he cautiously lowered his hands and squinted at a blurry Wormtail, who lay dead on the ground.  
  
Professor Dumbledore, Mad-Eye Moody, and several other members of the Order had arrived not too soon later. After learning what had transpired, Dumbledore had explained to a very bewildered Harry that Wormtail's life- debt to the then sixteen-year-old wizard had involved such a powerful ancient magic that Wormtail's wand had refused to allow the curse to hit Harry, and had instead turned on its master.  
  
As Harry was being helped to his feet, Moody retrieved his glasses and wand, both which had been lying less than three feet away. Sheepishly, Harry had placed his glasses back on his nose, and a quick Reparo spell from Dumbledore took care of the cracked glass in the left lens.  
  
Though Harry had admittedly been extremely reckless, it seemed that most of the Order had grown accustomed to his rash behavior, and only Mrs. Weasley, Lupin, and McGonagall had scolded him with much vehemence. Great good had come of his encounter with Wormtail, which made the brush with death worth it to Harry. With Peter Pettigrew's body produced, Minister Fudge could no longer deny the truth of what had happened the night the Potters were attacked. Sirius Black's name was officially cleared, and the wizarding world at last knew of his innocence. Only Lupin seemed to truly understand the bitter-sweetness of the moment; Harry just wished his godfather had lived to see the day.  
  
It was somewhat of a surprise, therefore, when Moody and Professor Snape had stopped by Marauder Lane just yesterday, Harry's third morning there.  
  
"I've been talking with Dumbledore, Potter, and he agrees with me that those damn glasses of yours are a bloody menace if you're planning to pull another stunt this year like you have every other," Moody had growled. "Professor Snape here says he can brew you a potion that'll-"  
  
"Correction, Mad-Eye," Snape had cut in smoothly, giving his most poisonous glare to Harry, who returned it with his own. "I said I would INSTRUCT POTTER how to brew it. The headmaster has insisted that I accept you into my Level 7 N.E.W.T. Potions class, Potter, despite my conviction that you will undoubtedly fail abysmally in it like you have been threatening to do in all my classes thus far. However, as your O.W.L. scores miraculously met my minimal standard of requirement." He sniffed and crinkled his large nose suspiciously, as if Harry had found a way around the many anti-cheating charms cast on the test, before continuing, "I suppose I will have to suffer through your presence for yet another year. Thankfully this will be the last. As such, a student who is admitted into this level of Potions should be able to brew a Visionary Correction Elixer (with minor instruction) no problem." He smiled nastily.  
  
If Harry's sight could have been fixed as a child growing up, he would have leapt at the chance. His Muggle primary schoolmates had always mercilessly picked on him for his often broken glasses. Now he knew he was a wizard, things were different. It was perhaps silly, but he had come to feel that his round spectacles were a way for him to be connected with his father. Professor Dumbledore had once predicted that Harry would grow tired of hearing of his physical resemblance to James Potter, but he never had.  
  
Presently, Harry sat down on the edge of the bed, his Hogwarts letter still clutched in his hand, lost in his memories and thoughts, not taking notice when the recovered tawny owl took flight out the window again. It was more than a little irritating to know that a man with half-moon spectacles and another with a false eyeball that could easily pop out were two of the people saying his impaired vision was too much of a hindrance, but Moody had waved aside his protests, saying it was for the best. Things were even worse when Harry then had to spend three and a half hours of his summer holiday, which was supposed to be blissfully Snape-free, being scowled and barked at by the hated Potions master, while he struggled to follow instructions to brew the Elixer.  
  
Snape provided all the ingredients, though Harry actually already had a supply of most of them upstairs in his trunk. For his birthday this year, Hermione had topped even the Dursley's gift of old socks in the Worst Presents Ever Awards. She had purchased him an advanced Potions kit, complete with various bottles of slimy, smelly substances and a thick text titled 'Furthering your Potion Knowledge: A Comprehensive Guide to the Practical and Theoretical Use of Complicated Potions'. She had included a not-so-tactful note stating that it was to help him keep up with everyone else in their N.E.W.T. class this coming school term.  
  
When the Elixer was finally complete, Harry, not wanting to give Snape the satisfaction of seeing him hesitate, had drank down the odorless milky liquid in a single shot.  
  
Harry leaned back in the creaky bed and pulled his legs back under the navy covers despite the hot breeze wafting in from the open window. He put the letter and envelope on the bedside. He closed his eyes against the dim room. He had to get some sleep in, as Lupin would be waking him up fairly early so that Harry could be ready to go to Diagon Alley with Tonks for a much needed haircut. Pushing any lingering images of the past few months out of his mind, he fell into dreamless sleep.  
  
Finishing up the last bite of his toast and marmalade the next morning, Harry wiped the remaining crumbs off his hands and stood up from the breakfast table, where Lupin was still seated, reading.  
  
"Moon- Er. Remus? Is it alright if I use your fireplace to talk to Ron and Hermione?" Harry asked, running his fingers through his dark hair, still damp from his shower. "I wanted to see if they wanted to meet up today to get our books, since I'll be in London anyway."  
  
Lupin's face tilted up from the book in front of him, and he smiled gently at the teenage boy. "Harry," he began, "I told you on your first night here that you're to make yourself at home: You don't have to ask, just help yourself to whatever you need."  
  
Harry nodded, knowing perfectly well he would continue to check with Lupin before taking anything. After living so long with the Dursleys, he still felt uncomfortable with too much freedom. Even at the Burrow, which was like a second home to him, Harry always made sure to still ask someone before even getting a glass of milk or pumpkin juice.  
  
"So the potion worked," Harry grumbled to the former professor, with a slight frown. "Dumbledore should be happy."  
  
"Yes, I wagered it worked when I saw you didn't have your specs on," Lupin grinned; then added, thoughtfully, "I see a lot more of your mother in you without them. I've always noticed her in your eyes of course, but I think you may have gotten her small nose as well." Harry visibly brightened at this. "The Floo powder is next to the hearth," he continued. "You'd better hurry if you want to be dressed and ready when Tonks gets here. I - er - would prefer her to not have to wait around in the house for you." The words may have been unnecessarily stern, but Lupin's tone was amused. Nymphadora Tonks was one of the most kind, adventurous, and funny witches Harry knew, but was also notoriously clumsy. Lupin's small house probably wouldn't survive an extended encounter with, as Ginny Weasley called it, the Tonks Tornado.  
  
"And one more thing, Harry," Lupin concluded before Harry left the room. His worn face suddenly looked older, but he smiled. "As the son of Prongs, you, along with myself, are the only one left who truly understands what being a Marauder is all about. If you want, feel free to call me Mooney."  
  
A grin stretched across Harry's own face. "Okay. Mooney."  
  
Forty-five minutes later, Harry and a currently pale-blonde Tonks were seated at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, waiting for Ron, Hermione, and Ron's sister Ginny, who had asked to come along.  
  
Diagon Alley was busy, even though it was still morning. A number of school friends, including Gryffindors Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas, and Colin Creevey, stopped by their table while they sat slurping on strawberry cones. All asked Harry about the absence of his eyeglasses, and he was encouraged by their positive responses to the change. As Hannah Abbott and two sixth year Hufflepuff girls Harry vaguely recognized walked off waving, Tonks turned to him with a grin.  
  
"Quite the popular one, eh?" she asked. "And a ladies' man, to boot." She winked and chuckled at Harry's blush. He was saved from further teasing when he spotted a curly haired brunette, closely followed by a pair of firey redheads, making her way through the throngs towards he and Tonks.  
  
"Harry!" Hermione smiled broadly, leaning over to give him a kiss on the cheek and an enormous hug when she, Ron, and Ginny reached their table. "You look great!"  
  
"Er," Harry said against her shoulder, surprised by the warm greeting. "Hermione, you just saw me a few days ago. and I can't really breathe."  
  
She gave a small laugh, and Harry was alarmed to see that her hazel eyes were teary when she pulled away. "Sorry, it's just this is the last time we'll meet here for a pre-school trip! It's finally hitting me that our time at Hogwarts is basically over," she explained.  
  
Ron rolled his own very tear-free eyes to share a look with Harry. "Give me a break, Hermy. If you're like this before term even starts, remind me to wear my galoshes to graduation in case you start a flood." Hermione glared at him.  
  
Ginny turned to Harry after complimenting Tonks on her blonde bob. "They've been bickering like this all day. They've decided to get back together, AGAIN," she warned.  
  
Harry noticed for the first time that his two best friends were holding hands. They had started dating the previous Christmas, but seemed to change their minds every other week. He didn't know whether to grin or groan at this news. He loved the idea of Ron and Hermione as a couple - it was obvious how much they cared for each other. All one had to do was see how they looked at one another with poorly disguised affection to know that. But whenever they were dating, their heated arguing seemed to up a notch, which would eventually result in a very irritated Harry telling the two of them off.  
  
".and I'd rather be sentimental than an insensitive-" Hermione was saying in a forced sweet voice that reminded Harry horribly of their fifth year DADA professor, Dolores Umbridge.  
  
"Alright, we should all head over to Sorcerous Stylings now that we're all here," Tonks interrupted loudly before a full-fledged fight broke out. She, Ginny, and a tight-lipped Hermione walked ahead, emersed in casual conversation, Ron and Harry not far behind.  
  
"Sorry we took so long getting here, mate, but since Ginny insisted on coming with, we had to Floo in," Ron said. "I guess you and Tonks Apparated?"  
  
"Yeah," Harry replied. He had just gotten licensed a week earlier. "It's still strange, I'm not really used to it yet. I was terrified I'd forget what I was doing and turn up without my trousers or something." They laughed, and were just getting into a good Quidditch discussion when they reached their destination. As the five of them entered the shop, Harry was overwhelmed by the smell of various hair potions.  
  
"Hi! I'm Sarah! Wow, I can see you're in need of our service, so how may I help you?" an attractive witch asked, eyeing Hermione's frizzy head and Harry's long black mop with little subtlety.  
  
Harry's eyes widened indignantly, but Hermione spoke before he could open his mouth. "Yes, the four of us are here for a cut and style." She smiled, but Harry could have sworn her teeth were clenched. He looked at her, somewhat surprised.  
  
"You guys are getting your hair done as well?" he asked.  
  
"Yeah," Ron answered. "Mum fancied it was a good idea, what with term about to begin."  
  
"And I just thought it would be interesting to try a wizarding salon that uses magic. I've never been to one before," Hermione added, looking around curiously.  
  
"Well, lucky for you we aren't as busy in the morning, so we have three spaces available right now, and a fourth should open up quick enough," Sarah said, a bright smile glued to her pretty face. She raised her wand, muttered a spell under her breath, and another fashionable witch and two handsome wizards came over. "This is Rondelle," Sarah pointed to the witch, "Paul, and Dominic. They'll be your stylists for the day."  
  
Harry thought they all looked a little too eager to hack into his hair, so he stepped back to let the others go before him. Ron was finished first, his red hair neatly trimmed to a stylish short cut that reminded Harry of Julius Caesar. He started to tell Ron that he looked good, but Dominic quickly whisked him away to the sinks to wash his hair.  
  
"That's not really necessary, I just washed it-" Harry began, as Dominic pushed him into a seat and shoved his head under the faucet. He was cut off, however, when Dominic pushed the black fringe covering his scar back to get it wet, let out a sharp gasp, and gave Harry a wide-eyed look of astonishment.  
  
"Is that.? Are you.?"  
  
Harry concealed a sigh and nodded. "Er, yeah. I am."  
  
"Well, well! Working on the famous Harry Potter! This is going to be great fun indeed!" Dominic said enthusiastically. "Now just relax, I'm going to use a specially formulized shampoo that will make your hair more soft and manageable."  
  
Harry gave up, leaned back, and closed his eyes. He couldn't deny it was enjoyable having someone massage his scalp; the warm water was pleasant and the faint scent of apples from the shampoo was soothing. It was over faster than he would have liked. A towel was wrapped around his neck and he was ushered to a black leather chair set in front of a large oval mirror. Hermione and Ginny were in similar seats to his left, being finished up by Rondelle and Paul. Harry noticed in the reflection that Tonks and Ron had come over to watch behind him.  
  
"So, what would you like done?" Dominic asked, lifting a willow wand to Harry's damp locks.  
  
"I just wanted a trim so that it's not in my eyes as much," he replied firmly.  
  
Dominic frowned, but Tonks rolled her currently blue eyes dramatically. "Honestly, Harry, while you're here, why not take advantage and try something different?" she said. Next to them, Hermione and Ginny were nodding vehemently in agreement, while Ron looked on with a mixture of sympathy and boredom.  
  
"I don't WANT-" Harry tried to say, but Dominic wasn't paying any attention and instead turned to the three girls, smiling brightly.  
  
"Thank Merlin this boy has you ladies looking out for him. I don't think my conscience could have handled it if I let HARRY POTTER, of all wizards, walk away with his hair looking as wretched as it did when he came in," he laughed. Harry's jaw dropped angrily at the innocently spoken insult; it was closed by Dominic's strong hand, which gripped his chin and tilted his head so that the stylist could see his face and hair from every angle.  
  
"Hm." Dominic murmered, narrow eyes appraising. "Not bad. Not bad at all, in fact. Yes, a very nice facial structure. So delicate. almost feminine." Harry made an indignant noise in the back of his throat. "Wonderful cheekbones. Eyes and lashes to die for, it's unbelievable you keep them hidden under these awful bangs."  
  
Harry saw in the mirror that his "wonderful cheekbones" were now flushed a deep pink. Hermione and Ginny had joined Tonks and Ron to stand and watch, all four grinning at his embarrassment. Harry tried to give them each a Look of Death, but the dignity of it was lost with Dominic still moving his face around.  
  
"Alright, I know just the thing. We're going to have to take a lot of it off, especially in the front, to open up this lovely face of yours."  
  
Harry shrugged. "That's fine. Don't put yourself out, though, it'll just grow back by tomorrow anyway. Haircuts have never really worked on me."  
  
Dominic laughed lightly. "You must have been to Muggle places, then. Dear boy, magical cuts are different, since we don't use Muggle scissors. We use spells instead. Don't worry, this will last quite some time."  
  
"Oh." 'Damn.' A surge or panic went through Harry. "Wait!" he cried, when Dominic lifted his wand, thinking fast. "You can't charm it too short, I need it long enough to cover my scar."  
  
Dominic paused looking thoughtful.  
  
"He's right," Tonks spoke up. Harry could have kissed her. "Sometimes it's helpful for him to hide it."  
  
"Alright," Dominic said slowly. "I can work with that."  
  
Harry sighed in relief. Before anyone else could find anything more to protest, Dominic whispered a few choice words and waved his wand around Harry's head. The hair gradually became shorter, and at first Harry had the horrible impression that it was growing back up inside his head, until he realized the ends were more jagged and a pile of dark strands was appearing in a small stone bowl set next to the mirror.  
  
When Dominic finished, the handsome man shot his wand at the bowl, and the hair disappeared in a small burst of blue flame. "Have to be careful to destroy it all," he explained, seeing Harry's curious gaze. "Hair can be used too easily in unwelcome spells." Harry nodded, feeling he should have guessed that, and turned his attention to his reflection.  
  
It was shorter, with the front falling across his forehead, just barely long enough to hide a good portion of the lightning bolt above his right eye. The back still stuck up, stubbornly messy. 'Should have known even a magical stylist wouldn't have much effect,' he thought, and moved to get up.  
  
"Oh, I'm not quite done with you," Dominic chuckled, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder to stop him. He picked up a bottle labeled Sleak-eazy's Witch Hazel Styling Potion. "I highly recommend you pick up a bottle of this before you leave today. It's a gift from the gods to people with troublesome hair like yours."  
  
"That's not going to work, trust me," Harry said. "My hair hasn't gone flat a day of my life."  
  
Dominic smiled more broadly. "That's been your error right there. Instead of fighting the natural growth of your hair, you should be working WITH it. Here, tilt your head forward." Harry did so, and Dominic used the potion, ruffling Harry's hair, so that pieces of it stuck up in the front as well. Some strands still lay across his forehead, but it was mostly off his face, his scar clearly visible.  
  
"Oh, that's brilliant, Harry!" Tonks clapped her hands. Upon seeing the look he gave her, she added, "If you need to go incognito ever, you can, but there's no reason to need to hide who you are all the time."  
  
"Um, how about basic anonymity?" Harry said, but they waved his worries away.  
  
"It looks really sexy," Ginny reassured. "Carelessly sexy."  
  
Harry gave himself another look. He did like it, though he'd never admit it. Still, he would have preferred it on someone else. He could just imagine the horror that would come with every gaze to come his way shooting directly to his scar, and him unable to hide his identity.  
  
"You know, it would be even more smashing if I could add some highlights-" Dominic began, his eyes glinting.  
  
"No!" Harry quickly stood up. Enough was enough. If he sat here much longer he wouldn't recognize himself. "No, thank you, this is fine."  
  
They all made their way to Flourish and Blotts once they'd paid at Sorcerous Stylings (the girls made Harry buy both the shampoo and Witch Hazel potion) with their school booklists in hand. Tonks and Ginny went to find the things she'd need for her sixth year, while Ron, Hermione, and Harry picked up their necessary N.E.W.T. texts. They had each just picked up a copy of 'How to be Charming', by Glenda Goodwich, when Hermione and Ron got into another row.  
  
".and what are you going to do then, hm? You can't keep putting off choosing a career, Ronald!"  
  
"For your information, I've known what I want to do since fourth year," Ron shot back, hotly.  
  
His girlfriend's eyes narrowed. "Oh, really? Then why did you just sign up for whatever classes Harry was taking? That's what he did, isn't it, Harry?"  
  
Ron's face turned red. "Harry, will you please inform her-"  
  
"Oh no," Harry interrupted, holding up his hands and backing away. "Don't pull me into this. You guys are driving me nuts already; I'm going to go find the others. Maybe by the time I come back you two will have found a private place and thoroughly shagged your sexual frustrations away." He smirked and walked towards the back of the shop, ignoring Hermione's scandalized "Harry!"  
  
The store wasn't too crowded, and Harry quickly spotted the back of Tonks' pale blonde head disappearing behind an aisle of shelves.  
  
Harry was about to turn in that same aisle to help her find whatever book she was looking for, but froze at the distinct sound of intimate murmuring and kissing coming from it. He dodged into the next aisle and peered through the books on the shelves, grinning mischievously, to see whom Tonks could have possibly met up with in this old, dusty bookshop.  
  
Green eyes widened in surprise, Harry saw that it wasn't the Metamorphmagus at all. It was Draco-bleeding-Malfoy: Enemy, Hated Rival, All Around Arrogant Git. And he was in the middle of a very heated snog session with.  
  
Harry blinked. 'Theodore Nott? But he's a BOY!' Harry moved some of the stacked books cautiously out of the way so that he could get a better look to ensure he wasn't seeing things. Malfoy had Nott pressed lightly against the wall, his pale hands tangled in the other boy's dark brown hair.  
  
'Oh, gross. I think I just saw Malfoy's tongue.' Both revolted and somehow fascinated at the same time, Harry continued to watch, unable to tear his eyes away.  
  
He had only seen two men kissing once before, and that had been on some American television program Dudley had been watching until Aunt Petunia had shouted to "get that perverse filth off." Harry remembered thinking how unnatural and bruising the kiss had looked; violent and hard, but strangely passionless at the same time. It had looked WRONG.  
  
Malfoy and Nott were different. Their kiss was soft and gentle, and hands lovingly caressed.. 'Wait a minute, loving? MALFOY!? The prat isn't capable! Winged pigs wouldt be ice-skating in Hades first.'  
  
Harry knew he should walk away now, before he was caught, but he felt compelled to stay where he was. He didn't know how long he had stood there watching the two Slytherins when he was startled from his observations.  
  
"THERE you are, Harry!" Harry whirled guiltily to face Hermione, who stood at the end of his aisle, a pile of books in her arms, looking exasperated. "We were-"  
  
Harry silenced her by clamping a hand over her mouth. The noises from the next row had stopped. Panicked at the thought of being caught spying on something so private, Harry hurriedly pulled a sputtering Hermione - away from Malfoy and Nott, through Flourish and Blotts, and straight out of the store to get away.  
  
"Harry!" A shocked Hermione gasped, wrenching herself out of his grasp. "What on earth is wrong with you today?! First you make crude. er. INSINUATIONS, then you storm off from Ron and I, and now you drag me around like I'm a puppy on a leash, and I haven't even PAID for these books yet-"  
  
"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that, Granger," a too familiar voice drawled from the shop's entrance. The two friends turned to see Malfoy gazing at them with cool grey eyes, a sneer on his face. He was alone, and Harry found himself wondering where Nott had gone. "After all," Malfoy continued, taking an arrogant step forward, "It's not like famous Potter or his little buck-toothed sidekick would actually be punished like the rest of us if they got caught stealing." He curled his lip nastily. "Even if you are a disgusting Mudblood."  
  
Harry's hand moved swiftly to produce his wand from his back pocket, but he held it low, not wanting to draw a crowd. "Newsflash, Malfoy," he said, emerald eyes sparking angrily. "I turned seventeen over the summer. So one more foul word from your Death Eater mouth and I'll LEGALLY hex you into next week."  
  
"Harry, no-" Hermione began.  
  
Unfazed, Malfoy covered the distance between himself and his rival, standing so close that Harry was forced to take a step back. Malfoy smirked. "You're so intimidating, Potter. Honestly, it's a wonder the Dark Lord isn't trembling in his robes."  
  
"I guess you would know if he wasn't, seeing as you've been up close and personal with Voldemort's robes. You know, having kissed them and all," Harry retorted. He was surprised to note that Malfoy didn't flinch at the evil wizard's name, though his eyes narrowed slightly.  
  
The pale blonde moved closer again, and this time Harry determinedly held his ground, chin up. Absently he noticed with irritation that the Slytherin was a few good inches taller, as well as more broad-shouldered. 'Damn those muggles and that stupid cupboard for keeping me so short.'  
  
"And I'm sure you'd love to watch me do that, wouldn't you, Potter," Malfoy murmered, sneering. "Funny, I never would have pegged you as a voyeur. So did you enjoy the peeping earlier, Tom?" Harry tried to ignore the deep flush creeping onto his face.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" asked Hermione, who hadn't moved for fear of dropping the unpaid for books on the ground.  
  
"I have no idea what he's talking about," Harry lied, his face still hot.  
  
Malfoy's pale lips drew into another of his signature smirks. "Oh, really?" he drawled mockingly, continuing to stare down his foe, not acknowledging Hermione's presence. His cool gaze slowly moved over Harry's frameless emerald eyes, golden-toned features, and mussed raven locks. The smaller boy suddenly felt very self-conscious without his trademark glasses and hair to hide behind; it was very uncomfortable knowing his scar was so exposed, almost like his fly was caught down. Malfoy lowered his voice so Hermione couldn't overhear. "You're not so terrible without those hideous black things you called spectacles and hair. Maybe you'd like joining in better than watching." Harry repressed a shiver at the warm breath that ghosted his face. He took a step back, sneer in place. "Unfortunately for you, I don't fuck filthy half-blood Gryffindors, no matter how pretty."  
  
Harry froze in shock for a moment. 'Did he just insinuate what I think he did?' Then thought, 'And did he just call me PRETTY of all things?!' Missing his spectacles more than ever, he silently cursed Moody, Snape, and Dumbledore again. He composed his face into a dark glare.  
  
"Well, I guess it's lucky for me that I don't swing that way," he spat. "But be assured that even if I did, you'd certainly be left off the list of people I'd ever consider doing. THAT. with."  
  
Malfoy merely raised an amused silver eyebrow, and passed by an indignant Harry to walk down the cobblestone street, with a small chuckle. "You don't really believe that, do you, Golden Boy?" he called over his shoulder, without turning around. "And close your mouth, Mudblood Granger, you're ugly enough without showing all of your oversized teeth."  
  
Gaping at the back of the quickly retreating blonde head, Hermione turned to Harry, unsure of what had just taken place.  
  
"What in the hell was that all about?" she questioned, books still teetering. Harry hurried over to help her with her burden.  
  
"Thanks," she sighed. "Now, will you please explain what Malfoy was talking about and why he left without so much as threatening your life even once?"  
  
Blinking at her suspicious tone, Harry frowned thoughtfully. "I guess he's afraid I'll leak his sexuality out to everyone if he wasn't civil." He paused. "Well, civil for that slimy ferret, anyway."  
  
"WHAT?!"  
  
Harry grinned wickedly at his baffled friend. "Hermione, you're never going to believe it. It seems our least favorite Slytherin has been hiding a little dark secret." In a low voice, he filled her in on the scene he had witnessed in Flourish and Blotts. Hermione looked stunned at first, but recovered swiftly. Harry thought he heard her mutter, "Well that explains a lot" under her breath.  
  
"Merlin, Ron's going to FLIP when he hears that Malfoy's gay!" Harry laughed. "I wonder if Lucius knows, yet. Hey, Herm, do you think-"  
  
"Whoa, Harry!" Hermione interrupted, looking disapproving. "I know Malfoy is one of the most detestable, bigoted creatures to ever walk the earth, but you can't go telling everyone he's gay! That's really a very. personal thing."  
  
"I'm not going to EVERYONE, Hermione, just Ron. And maybe Seamus and Dean." Harry cocked his raven head thoughtfully. "Oh, and Neville, of course, Malfoy's always been such a right git to him. Oh! And-"  
  
"No," Hermione said firmly. "No, Harry, not a word to anyone, understand?"  
  
"At least let me tell Ron-"  
  
"ESPECIALLY not Ron! He'd probably sell the story to Rita Skeeter or something- and don't you even THINK of it, Harry Potter, I see that glint in your eyes. She'd probably ruin his life."  
  
Harry sighed, but nodded.  
  
"If anyone found out, he'd probably be disowned by his entire family or something. The wizarding word severly frowns on homosexual relationships, Harry," Hermione said.  
  
The Gryffindor boy stared, surprised. "As much as muggles?" he asked, genuinely curious.  
  
She frowned, biting her lower lip. "Pretty much. Maybe even more. Look, let's just not bring this up again. Even Malfoy doesn't deserve to be picked on for this; you're better than that, Harry. Let's go pay for these and find Ron and Tonks. I still need to pick up a supply of floo powder."  
  
Harry followed the young witch inside the shop, trying to forget what he had seen earlier. For some irritating reason that he couldn't explain, he was unable to get the image of his archrival's slightly flushed face and freshly kissed mouth out of his mind. 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Forgot this for Chapter 1, but I am not JKR, and own nothing that you recognize here from canon.  
  
Just a reminder, this is a slash story, meaning two male characters (Harry and Draco) will have romantic and kissy scenes together. If that makes your stomach queasy, you might actually do well to read this fic since it deals with the idea of tolerance for love of all shapes and forms.  
  
A/N: First off, thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter! This is my first fic ever, so advice and criticism (and of course compliments!) are appreciated. I'd like to say that this fic will be novel length, which means Harry and Draco's relationship will not happen overnight-I'm trying to keep this as close to canon as slash can be, so they have too much to work out first. This fic may seem slow moving at times, and I'm sorry for that, but I love going into detail and this is my baby, so I want to get it just right. The story really will begin to pick up with the main plot in probably Chapter 5, and I think my plot is a really good one that I've never seen done, so stick around to find out what happens! I guarantee a lot of surprises and twists!  
  
Chapter Two  
  
Harry boarded the Hogwarts Express on the first day of September feeling more nervous than he had been since his first year, which now seemed a lifetime ago. Although he knew he still had ten months to go, he couldn't help the apprehension that this was the beginning of the end: the end of his childhood and his time at Hogwarts, but, much more horribly, also the possible end of his life. Professor Trelawny would have been proud of his inexplicable gut intuition that this would be the year the Divination teacher's prophecy would finally be fulfilled, and that he would be the one to fall when it did.  
  
He didn't know why this dread had overcome him all of the sudden. He had been fighting Voldemort for over six years now, but was certain the dark wizard was determined to finish him off once and for all before he could graduate and be a fully educated wizard. In other words, before he could become a substantial threat to the Dark.  
  
Sighing, Harry took a window seat in an empty compartment, careful to lay his jacket and the worn brown leather bag containing his Hogwarts uniform across some of the seats, saving them for when Hermione, Ron, and Ginny came back from the Prefects car. He leaned his marked forehead against the cool glass and watched the other students giving final hugs and waves to parents, brothers, sisters, trying to not feel jealous or too sorry for himself. Remus, Moody, Tonks, and the rest of the guard that had escorted him to King's Cross had been in a rush to attend to other Order business, and had practically pushed him through the barrier at platform 9 ¾ before hurrying back to Grimmauld Place. Rather anti-climactic for his last time making the trip.  
  
Finally the platform below was emptying, as students clambered onto the train. Harry saw Parvati Patil and Terry Boot meet up with a sweet kiss, again feeling a twist of envy. He'd only dated two girls so far in his seventeen years: the mess with Cho Chang in his fifth year, and the less messy (but still very much over) relationship with Susan Bones in sixth. Both girls had proved to be too clingy for his liking. He had enough people depending on him, and didn't need a girlfriend who did, too.  
  
Gryffindors were supposed to be brave and confident, but Harry just clammed up and forgot those traits when it came to dating. He remembered with embarrassment that Cho and Susan had both been the ones to initiate their first kiss with him, while he just stood there frozen, unable to breath, let alone move.  
  
Movement outside the window brought him back from his thoughts when he saw that Theodore Nott was boarding. Harry bit his lip and blushed slightly as a picture of Nott and Malfoy together invaded his mind yet again. Countless times over the past couple of weeks he had found himself inevitably reminded of the scene at Flourish and Blotts, despite his greatest efforts to forget. The worst part was that he had begun to find the image. fascinating. His heart would beat a little faster, and his breathing would deepen. Now was no exception, as his mind's eye saw the two Slytherins back in that dusty book aisle.  
  
'No, don't even think of it. It's disgusting, it's wrong, it's MALFOY for Merlin's sake,' he scolded himself. 'Get your mind in gear, Potter! I know it was a traumatic thing to witness, but get over it. You've seen worse." Harry closed his eyes and tried to recall what Snape had taught him in his Occlumency lessons. 'Empty yourself of all thought.'  
  
Just as his mind became blank and calm, the compartment door banged open, pulling him back to reality. Neville Longbottom, Susan Bones, Seamus Finnigan, and Justin Finch-Fletchly piled inside and sat down, just barely leaving room for the three Gryffindor prefects Harry was saving seats for. He was greeted with a chorus of "Hi Harrys," and couldn't resist grinning back at his friends.  
  
"Hey, everyone," he said, pretending not to notice when Susan moved his bag so that she could sit directly next to him. "How were your holidays?"  
  
Seamus smiled at his dorm-mate. "Not too bad. I went to muggle Dublin with my parents."  
  
The group exchanged stories of the summer, as the Hogwarts Express went deeper into the wilderness of the countryside. Harry felt increasingly awkward as Susan took every opportunity to flirt with him, constantly leaning in to talk in his ear or casually touch his arm. By the time the snack trolley had come around, her hand had settled on his left thigh, periodically squeezing it when no one was looking. With the distraction of Cauldron Cakes and pumpkin juice to cover him, Harry quickly left the compartment with his bag slung over his shoulder, explaining to them he needed to go change into his school robes.  
  
Emerging from the small lavatory fifteen minutes later, Harry hoped desperately that the prefects would be done with their meeting. He was heading back down the train's hall when he heard the noticeably gloating voice of Draco Malfoy carrying from a compartment on his left. Rolling his eyes, the dark haired boy ignored it, and instead was just glad that Ron, Hermione and Ginny would be free to protect him from his ex-girlfriend's advances.  
  
Re-entering the compartment, however, Harry found that his previously bubbling-with-joy friends were all slouched sullenly. He squeezed past eight pairs of legs to reclaim his spot by the window, looking at them all confusedly. He cleared his throat nervously.  
  
"Hey, guys, who died?" he asked, then mentally slapped himself. 'Not the smartest question to ask during a war, Potter,' he reprimanded silently.  
  
Ron's scowl deepened before he replied, "Dumbledore's sense of loyalty, reason, and sanity." Harry blinked.  
  
When Ron didn't explain further, Hermione sighed. "Ron, I'm sure Professor Dumbledore has his reasons for choosing the way he did. Besides, he can't just NOT pick a student because of their sour personality. I mean, the prat does have the second highest scores in our year."  
  
Harry's heart sank in dread. "Herm, what are you talking about?" he questioned, though he thought he had a good idea.  
  
The brunette sighed again. "Malfoy," she said disgustedly, "has been made Head Boy."  
  
His fears confirmed, Harry slunk down in his seat, pouting with the rest of them. He had already learned over the summer that Hermione was to be the new Head Girl, and had been mildly insulted that his other best friend hadn't been appointed her counterpart.  
  
'Merlin, what is Dumbledore thinking, choosing that ferret-faced git over Ron!?'  
  
The group's silent sulking was interrupted when the compartment door swiftly swung open, revealing a surprisingly solitary Malfoy.  
  
"Ah, if it isn't the Gryffindork trio and their groupies."  
  
"Get lost, Malfoy," Ginny shot back. She, too, seemed offended that her brother had been passed over for the Slytherin.  
  
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "Mind your tone, Weasel Jr. You wouldn't want to give me any reason to deduct house points." He smiled, and with a long finger tapped a gleaming silver badge pinned to his uniform's silver and green tie. "Don't forget, I'm Head Boy now."  
  
"You can't take points," Justin argued, sitting up straight. "We're not even at Hogwarts yet!"  
  
Malfoy scowled briefly, but quickly brightened up. "Fine, but the little Weasel gets a detention with Filch for being so rude to me, and you, Finch- Fletchly, get one, too, to set an example of what happens when people cross me."  
  
"How did a prick like you ever get picked for Head Boy!?" Ron growled, his fists clenched dangerously. "I guess you had to have Daddy BUY your way in, just like in Quidditch!"  
  
Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "At least my father could afford it, Weasel. But, no, my acquirement of the position was based solely on my wit, charm, intelligence and athletic ability. Not to mention my exquisite aesthetic appeal."  
  
Harry wrinkled his nose and rolled his jade eyes in annoyance. "Doesn't it hurt your back to kiss your own arse like that, Malfoy?" he asked coolly. "Wait. Silly me, I forgot. Slytherins don't have backbones."  
  
Neville, Seamus and Ron guffawed appreciatively, but Malfoy didn't so much as bat an eye. "Detention, Potter. Oh, and I can't forget your earlier insolence, Weasley. You both can join the other losers in Filch's office tomorrow night at eight."  
  
Harry bit back another retort. It would only get him in deeper, and he didn't want to spend his first week at Hogwarts with Filch and his horrid cat, of all things. Like it or not, Malfoy now had the authority to be as vicious and unfair in delivering punishments as Snape was. He noticed his friends all looked as angry, frustrated, and helpless as he felt.  
  
The pale-skinned blonde's lips stretched into a terrible grin when he caught sight of their long faces. "You all look so grim. Who died?" he mocked, unknowingly echoing Harry's earlier statement. "Oh, wait. Stupid question - basically anyone Potty hangs around with croaks it sooner or later. Usually sooner."  
  
Harry jumped up with the intention of knocking out a few of the Slytherin's straight white teeth, but Susan grabbed his arm in restraint, while Hermione held an irate Ron back.  
  
"What? It's true," Malfoy said innocently, smirking at their reaction, as he leaned on the doorframe. He crossed his robe-clad arms and looked directly into Harry's furious gaze. "I mean, first you got your dad killed, and your mum. Then of course there was Diggory. Oh, and we can't forget that stupid mutt-"  
  
Pure rage propelled the Gryffindor from Susan's grip with a snarl, and he threw himself at Malfoy so that they both tumbled into the train's hall. The force knocked Malfoy off his feet, and the Slytherin dragged Harry down with him. So enraged was he, Harry hardly noticed that the compartment doors surrounding them opened, as curious students peered out to see what the commotion was about. Malfoy didn't even resist or try to shove the smaller boy off of him; instead, he lashed out with words.  
  
"What's the matter, POTTER?" he spat, his heavy breath from the struggle caressing the frosty blonde hair that had fallen in his face. "It's not like any of them were worth getting this excited over. Especially that bastard blood-traitor Black-"  
  
Harry lifted Malfoy up by the collar of his shirt and robes, then slammed and pinned his enemy's back to the wall, effectively stopping the boy from continuing his ugly remarks. When Harry finally gained enough control to speak, his voice was iced over with a quiet, deadly calm.  
  
"I'm only going to say this once, you disgusting disgrace of a wizard, so listen closely. If you EVER insult Sirius Black in my presence again, I swear to you on his grave that they will be the last words you'll ever speak." Hate-filled silver and green eyes bore into each other, neither relenting to the other. Harry saw the whisper of a smirk that remained on Malfoy's expression and was determined to erase it. Completely forgetting that they had an audience, he prattled on, wanting only to hurt the boy in front of him as much as possible. "That man was worth a hundred of you, Malfoy. And don't you DARE call him a blood-traitor. At least he wasn't a perverted queer like you and your little boyfriend. Believe me when I say that I won't hesitate to inform Daddy Dearest of your preferences in bed and how I saw you practically dry-humping Nott, if you don't learn to keep your pillow-biting mouth SHUT!"  
  
A surprised murmur from the crowd that surrounded them suddenly brought Harry out of his fury enough to realize that they weren't alone, and he shut his eyes in shock at the horrible awareness of what he had just said and done. He released his hold on the blonde, staggering back a step. Opening his eyes, he saw Malfoy staring at him with a loathing he hadn't known possible. After a few minutes of terrible silence that seemed to last a lifetime, Malfoy finally broke it.  
  
"I'd rather be a "perverted queer" than a sanctimonious hypocrite," he hissed. "Tell me, Potter, does the self-righteous creed that the Gryffindors spout against bigotry pertain only to mudbloods and werewolves, or are you just this narrow-minded when it comes to someone's sexuality?"  
  
After straightening out his robes and smoothing back his hair, Malfoy cleared his expression so that one would never know his reputation and dignity had just taken a hard blow. The throng of students had let out a collective gasp at Malfoy's unexpected admittance to being gay, but Harry could only lower his gaze and feel ashamed of his own cruel slip of tongue, and privately admire his rival's nerve.  
  
Malfoy started to exit through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea. Stealing his OWN nerve, Harry called out to him, with full intentions of giving the blonde the public apology he deserved.  
  
"Malfoy, wait-"  
  
The Slytherin paused mid-step, but didn't turn around. "Oh, and Potter? Make that an entire month of detentions; but don't bother going to Filch tomorrow. They'll be held under MY supervision. You're to meet me in front of the Great Hall at 8pm sharp. I advise you not to be late." And with that, he disappeared into a compartment on the other side of the train.  
  
Harry swallowed thickly, and quickly dashed into his own compartment, a furious Hermione and a surprisingly silent Ron right on his heels. In a low voice, so as not to draw any more attention to what had just happened, Hermione let him have it.  
  
"Harry James Potter, I can't even believe-" Her face turned a beet red, her mouth pinched in a terrible line. "NEVER in my life have I been so appalled by someone!! How could you be so spiteful? You just HAD to tell the entire school, didn't you? After you promised me you wouldn't!"  
  
Burrowing his face in his hands, Harry sat down, while Ron closed and locked the compartment door behind them so that no one else could wander in.  
  
"I know, Hermione. Merlin, believe me when I say I wish I'd never opened my stupid mouth," he groaned. He lifted his gaze to look at them both. "He just makes me so bloody ANGRY! He had no right to say what he did about Sirius. I just wanted to make him hurt so badly! I didn't even really mean what I said."  
  
Briefly closing her eyes, Hermione sank into the seat opposite Harry with a sigh. "Well, you definitely succeeded in hurting him, I'm sure, no matter how well he hides it." Reaching across the short distance, she took Harry's hand in her own, looking directly into his emerald orbs. "Harry, you have really got to work on controlling your temper. Okay, maybe you didn't intend to say what you did, but the point is you DID say it. Ever since the end of fourth year, you've been harboring some dark bitterness that makes you lash out at everyone. You're right, Malfoy should have kept his mouth shut about Sirius, but that doesn't mean you should fight fire with fire."  
  
Ron, who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the whole ordeal, sat next to Hermione to address Harry nervously. "She's right, you know," he said, and hurriedly added, "I don't mean about Malfoy, I think that stupid prat deserves whatever shots we can give him, but you've been so hostile these past couple of years. Especially after. you know, the Ministry incident with Sirius."  
  
Biting his lip against the sudden prickling in his eyes, Harry gave a sad smile to the two best friends he had ever had. "I know I've been acting resentful of you both for some time now. I don't mean to, but I- . I thought that if Wormtail was caught, I'd feel better, you know? But it just didn't work that way. I don't know what to do with myself anymore, I just want this war over and everyone responsible for my losses to suffer the same way I have."  
  
"Alright, but Harry, you can't go around with this cloud over your head forever! And it's not just the attitude you've had lately, but the things you say are just so OFFENSIVE. The Harry I know would NEVER have resorted to the malicious slurs you were throwing at Malfoy," Hermione chastised. "Do you have any idea of the damage you've probably done?" Harry sank lower in his seat.  
  
Ron let out a low whistle, and ran a freckled hand through his hair. "Yeah, mate, I still can't believe it. Is it really true you saw Malfoy and Nott together?"  
  
Harry nodded miserably, cheeks pinking slightly at the reminder. "And now all of Hogwarts will know before we even reach the castle." He anxiously squeezed Hermione's hand. "I truly am sorry, Herm. You don't think his family will really disown him, do you?" Her expression softened when she saw he was sincere, and she gave him a gentle squeeze back.  
  
Ron looked thoughtful. "You know, I doubt Lucius would do that, seeing as Draco's his only heir." He smirked, suddenly smug. "I bet now he'll be kicking himself that he didn't have more kids like my parents did. Really, though, making out with another boy? In a public place? Malfoy's brought a huge disgrace on his family, so there's no telling what will happen. It just goes to show that even the purest of purebloods can be defective," he snorted. Hermione shook her head at her boyfriend.  
  
Harry tried to smile back at his best friend, but it came off as more of a grimace. He was slightly taken aback that Ron thought of homosexuality as a defect, but remembered Hermione's words about the wizarding world. Ron had grown up in it, so of course he would follow their moral beliefs. He probably thought all gay men were perverts.  
  
'Maybe he's right. Besides, I was just calling the ferret a pillow-biter, for Merlin's sake. Who am I to criticize what Ron thinks?' he remembered. 'Malfoy was right. I'm a complete hypocrite.'  
  
The three of them sat in relative silence for the remainder of their journey, each lost in their own thoughts.  
  
*  
  
It was just past dusk when the thestral-drawn carriages arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry's gate. After filing into the Great Hall, Harry took his seat with his fellow Gryffindor seventh years, his head low, trying desperately not to notice the urgent whispers of the other students. It seemed even some of the staff were excited over the new gossip, if the looks on Professors Flitwick and Sinistra's faces were anything to go by.  
  
Risking a quick glance at the Slytherin table, he was relieved to note that Malfoy's house was accepting him despite the scandal. 'At least I haven't completely screwed his last year here by losing him all of his friends. Not that losing that lot would be such a big deal.' Turning his full attention to the seventh year Slytherins, Harry saw that Malfoy was looking as bad- tempered as ever, but Nott was nowhere to be seen. Confused, he turned to point this out to Hermione when McGonagall marched through the entrance with a line of first years in tow.  
  
It was in a sort of daze that the rest of the feast passed by. Harry vaguely listened to Dumbledore's familiar warning about the Forbidden Forest and using magic in the corridors, and heard him introduce their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher (Professor Venatici). He perked up slightly when the Sorting Hat sang the last song he would ever hear from it as a Hogwarts student, and cheered along with his friends when new Gryffindors were sorted into his house.  
  
Throughout the entire evening, however, his gaze kept drifting towards the Slytherins. He wasn't surprised at the hateful looks many of them were shooting in his direction, but wanted to crawl under the table when he caught Malfoy's eye and saw an unexpected hint of shame and hurt in the ordinarily cold grey orbs before the pureblood heir quickly repaired his mask of indifference, turning to look away from Harry.  
  
To his luck, Hermione had caught the brief exchange, and she nudged Harry in the stomach with her elbow. Looking pointedly at the platinum blonde across the Hall, she whispered, "And you had better apologize to him, Harry Potter, I don't care what your excuses for your behavior are."  
  
"But, Hermione, I already have to sit in detention with the spoiled arse ordering me around for an entire MONTH! Isn't that punishment enough?" he pleaded.  
  
But the Head Girl was not about to cave. "You have an entire month to think up a way to tell him, then," she replied, firmly, her eyebrows lowered. "I'm warning you now, Harry, if you haven't told him you're sorry by the end of the month, I'm going to put you in ANOTHER months worth of detention. With me."  
  
The Boy Who Lived whimpered.  
  
*  
  
Dragging his exhausted legs up the steps to his dormitory later that night, Harry collapsed onto his four-poster bed. All seventh years were given private rooms to sleep in, a special privilege for final-years that Harry was extremely grateful for. He would miss his roommates' morning antics considerably, but with his sleep constantly interrupted by embarrassing nightmares, the privacy would keep him from waking anyone else up with his restlessness.  
  
A knock on the door was barely heard when Dean Thomas, Neville Longbottom, and Seamus Finnigan rushed in before he could utter a response. Seamus practically leaped on top of Harry in his excitement. Letting out a small yelp, Harry looked in exasperation at the Irish boy.  
  
"Seamus! What the bloody hell are you doing?" He noticed the three other Gryffindors were watching him, expectantly. "What?"  
  
Dean and Seamus turned to each other, silently deciding who would ask, while Neville bit his lip nervously in the background. Finally Dean spoke up. "Is it true? What you said on the train about Malfoy?"  
  
Harry groaned inwardly, cursing his big mouth once again. He didn't know quite how he should respond to this. Things were already a big enough mess as it was, but there didn't seem to be any point denying it, seeing as Malfoy himself had pretty much admitted he was gay in front of them anyway.  
  
"Yeah, it's true," he sighed. "I saw him and Theodore Nott snogging in Diagon Alley this summer, but that's all I know and I don't want to talk about it, so can we please just drop it?"  
  
Neville's eyebrows rose into his hairline, and Seamus whispered a soft "Merlin!" Dean merely gave a small nod, and attempted to change the subject with some success. Having witnessed Harry's temper earlier that day, he wasn't about to test the onyx-haired boy's patience.  
  
As soon as they left, Harry made a beeline to the bathroom so that he could get ready for bed, but once he was finally under the warm covers, sleep evaded him. It had been quite the eventful day. He couldn't remember the last time he had ever felt so guilty in his life, especially over someone like Malfoy. Yes, Malfoy was a horrible, despicable brat who would most likely become a Death Eater after graduation, but Hermione was right. Whether he deserved them or not, Harry's vindictive comments were below what a Gryffindor should do.  
  
Harry had always prided himself on how well he handled Malfoy and other bullies over the years. Maybe it was from having to deal with Dudley and his gang all of his life ("Harry Hunting" was a game he wasn't soon to forget), but in the past Harry had managed to keep a level head when confronted with another's ugly remarks. He rarely resorted to physical violence like he had today. 'In fact, Malfoy is probably the only person to piss me off enough to get such a reaction from me,' he mused, remembering the Quidditch-game turned Boxing-match in his fifth year.  
  
Sighing, Harry rolled over to lay on his side, happy to see that he had a clear view of the moon from his dorm window. There was no point in trying to empty his thoughts tonight, as he couldn't help but see his confrontation with his archrival over and over again. He saw himself shouting the terrible insults with Malfoy pinned to the wall of the train, the blonde's face flushed with anger.  
  
The image distorted to show the same flushed boy, this time pink with passion, pressed against Nott in the dim aisle of an old bookshop. Suddenly it wasn't Nott his mind saw being held and kissed by Malfoy, but himself. He could see the grey eyes, drilling into him and keeping him unable to move. Malfoy's soft tongue would quickly sneak out to ask his own lips for entrance, their bodies as close as they had been on the train today-  
  
"Whoa!!" Harry startled. He stopped his hand, which had disappeared under the sheets and was slowly creeping into his boxers. What in the name of all that was Light was he DOING?! Wanking off to DRACO MALFOY of all people? What, was he suddenly going to turn queer too, just because he saw one sodding kiss? That was so preposterous that he let out a small chuckle to the empty room.  
  
"No way," he reassured himself, frantically attempting to ignore the arousal that had been growing between his legs away. This is a perfectly ordinary, teenage-hormonal reaction. For Merlin's sake, he was a seventeen year old boy! His body would respond to anything.  
  
At any rate, he wasn't going to spend the last of his first nights in Hogwarts worrying over it or contemplating ANYTHING to do with bloody Malfoy. Even with this conviction set sternly in his mind, it was a long while before he was finally able to drift off to sleep. 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize from canon is obviously JKR's. I feel so stupid for having to say this. A/N: Comments for reviewers of the previous chapters are at the bottom of the page.  
  
Chapter Three  
  
The morning sky was blocked with rain clouds threatening to break, casting a cool shadow over the castle that somehow seemed to penetrate the stone walls. It surely didn't improve the mood of a certain green-eyed teenager, who was currently trudging down the stairs that led to the Gryffindor Common Room, grumbling under his breath.  
  
Exhausted from the blinding pain his latest vision had caused him during the night, Harry pledged never to skip out on practicing Occlumency again, no matter how preoccupied he was. He hadn't had one this bad in a long time, having gained much control over the connection between himself and Lord Voldemort during his sixth year. It helped that the dark wizard was no longer able to manipulate the bond, after the failed possession at the Ministry of Magic headquarters a little over a year ago, but Harry's scar sometimes still linked him unwillingly to his enemy. And last night Voldemort had been very upset indeed.  
  
He would have to fit in a trip to Dumbledore's office sometime later today.  
  
The vision and the weather, in addition to his lack of proper sleep due to worrying over the Malfoy situation, made for a very grumpy Harry Potter. It didn't help when, upon entering the Common Room, his entire house was bubbling over loudly with excitement for the start of the new school year.  
  
It was easy enough to spot the tall red haired prefect that was Ron Weasley, who was getting ready to help Hermione usher the first years down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Harry fell in step next to them, ignoring the open-mouthed stares some of the small witches and wizards were giving him and his exposed scar, and quietly told them what he had Seen in his dream.  
  
They both predictably tried to persuade him to speak with Dumbledore right away, but gave up when he made it clear that it wasn't an emergency, and that Dumbledore probably already knew about it anyway. Right now he was tired and just wanted some hot tea and crisp bacon on toast to help him wake up.  
  
Seated between Neville and Ron, Harry gave as bright a smile as he could muster to Hagrid, who was wildly waving happily to him from the faculty table at the front of the Hall. Since he no longer took Care of Magical Creatures, Harry hadn't seen as much of the bearded half-giant the previous year, and he silently vowed to visit more often this term.  
  
Friendly conversation combined with good food helped him to cheer up, and he didn't even really mind when he saw that 'N.E.W.T. Double Potions' was listed as his first class of the day on his timetable. Harry wondered in the back of his mind whether Malfoy had also signed up for that course. Since N.E.W.T. level classes were much more difficult, not many opted to take those that weren't necessary for their career choice, which also meant that often the few students signed up for one would be combined into one class, despite what house they were in.  
  
Harry himself was only taking four N.E.W.T. courses this year: Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, and DADA. All seventh years were required to take at least five classes, but as Harry was also a Quidditch captain, he was exempt from that rule. Instead, Madam Hooch would give him a pass/fail grade at the end of the year, based on his leadership and strategic skills.  
  
Harry suddenly realized he had no idea what Malfoy's plans were for after graduation, though he strongly suspected they would involve a hooded robe, white mask, and black tattoo. The blonde was admittedly good at potion- making, however, so Harry thought he would probably be in Snape's class, whatever his ambitions.  
  
After stubbornly refusing to look at the Slytherin table all morning, Harry finally broke and snuck a peek.  
  
The first thing he noticed was that Malfoy's bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle, were back to their posts on either side of him. They looked more than a little intimidating, cracking their knuckles threateningly to anyone who dared to give Malfoy a sideways glance. Harry thought their hands must be smarting, because almost the entire Hall (Slytherins and professors aside) was constantly peering in the Head Boy's direction, whispering loudly to one another. Apparently the buzz hadn't died down yet, and Harry couldn't help but feel a stab of guilt. If anyone knew how awful it was to be the victim of Hogwarts gossip, it was him. Some of the students had angry or disgusted expressions, but then again, ever since Lucius Malfoy's short stay in Azkaban for being an accused Death Eater last year, Draco wasn't exactly popular with the other houses, and often received such dirty looks.  
  
The second thing Harry noticed (quite grudgingly) was that Malfoy was actually rather attractive. Harry had never thought much, if at all, about the other boy's appearance before. It had taken until fourth year for him to consciously acknowledge that Malfoy had unnaturally light hair, and that was only after he overheard someone ask if Fleur Delacour was in some way related to the Slytherin because of their likeness in coloring. He had always just seen Malfoy as an extremely pale boy, with a pointy face and cold grey eyes, and nothing more. Perhaps now that Harry no longer needed to wear his glasses his vision had improved, because Malfoy's features were registering in his brain as much nicer for some odd reason.  
  
He shook his head to clear it, appalled with himself for studying his enemy for so long. 'It's just because of what I saw at Flourish and Blotts,' he scowled. 'That stupid incident is completely messing up my mind! Look at what almost happened last night! Gods, Ron would be sick if he knew how close I came to jerking off to Malfoy and Nott, of all people.'  
  
Speaking of Nott, it suddenly came to Harry's attention that the boy was again absent from his table. Wondering what could have happened to the Slytherin, he turned to point it out to Ron, who shrugged and shoveled more eggs in his mouth.  
  
"No clue, mate, maybe he took ill on the train," he responded, and added carelessly, "Or maybe he's too embarrassed to show his face now that everyone knows he's been all kissy with Ferret-boy. I mean, who wouldn't be?"  
  
Harry cringed inwardly at the thought. He hadn't even considered the fact that he had simultaneously forced Nott out of the closet alongside Malfoy. He wondered if Hermione would make him apologize to the other boy as well.  
  
He sincerely hoped not. He didn't know if he could stomach asking for forgiveness from TWO Slytherins, especially when he found it very likely that they would be unwilling to give it to him.  
  
*  
  
At precisely 9:30AM, a half an hour after breakfast was finished, the fourteen seventh years (Draco Malfoy among them) who sat in the chilly dungeon that served as the Potions classroom visibly jumped when their professor let the door slam dramatically shut behind him. Quickly making his way to the front of the room, he fixed an extra vicious glare on Harry before addressing his students.  
  
"Silence!" Professor Snape snapped, although not a peep could be heard from anyone. "This is the highest level Potions course available at Hogwarts, and I expect you all to behave as such. I hope that you all at least had the common sense to purchase your own advanced Potions kit this summer, as you will be required to do much brewing on your own time." Harry mouthed a soundless 'Thank you!' to a smug Hermione, suddenly much more grateful for his birthday gift. "I won't tolerate anything less than perfection from any of you this year, and you should all know by now that I will not hesitate to take house points if you fail to do so." His black eyes flickered towards the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs in the room.  
  
Harry and Ron exchanged a look. The two had a bet going as to how many house points the Gryffindors would lose in their first lesson. Ron had capped it at twenty-five, but a more pessimistic Harry had thought at least thirty.  
  
As the class wore on, it became evident who would be the winner. The only Slytherins in the class other than Malfoy were Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Morag MacDougal, but the four seemed determined to give Harry hell, despite being out-numbered by the other houses. Evidently Snape had heard of the fight between both his most prized and hated student, and appeared frighteningly eager to allow them to make Harry suffer for it.  
  
Each time Harry or his friends attempted to retaliate against the thrown bits of eel eyes that landed in Harry's hair, or the snide remarks made about his parents and muggle-upbringing, Snape would bark out an absurd number of points to be taken from Gryffindor House.  
  
Malfoy gave the impression that he found the whole situation amusing, but at one point Harry caught the pale boy staring at him with a strangely intense and searching look that curiously made Harry blush. Malfoy smirked at the pink cheeks, and turned back to his cauldron. The incident was forgotten when a large flying piece of mandrake root caused Harry's Requiescere Draught to splash all over his work station.  
  
"Five points for making a mess, Potter."  
  
*  
  
Harry was seething by the time the two hours were up, his house seventy- seven points down. Hermione, Ron, and Susan Bones followed him as he stormed out of the dungeons, making his way back to the Great Hall even though lunch wouldn't be served for half an hour yet.  
  
Ron was just as furious as his best friend, the red of his face clashing horribly with his fiery hair. "I can't BELIEVE the greasy git let them get away with all of that!" he hollered, ignoring the questioning looks other students gave him.  
  
"I can," Harry snarled, rudely knocking away Susan's sympathetic hand, which had been griping his upper arm. "I'm sure it completely made his day. He's probably looking for a Pensieve right now, so he can relive each moment again and again."  
  
Slightly out of breath from trying to keep up with Harry's rapid pace, Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, really, what did you expect would happen? You must have known that Malfoy would take some sort of revenge, and honestly, I think you got off pretty easy."  
  
"Hermione, if you're telling me I deserved that-" Harry began, but was cut off by Susan.  
  
"Of course that's not what she means," she soothed, hesitantly taking his arm, only to be shrugged off again. "But everybody knows that Snape favors Malfoy. The man's probably livid about what happened on the train, especially since it was you who did it. You're lucky you walked out still alive."  
  
Ron grunted, unhappily. "But he didn't have to penalize our entire house! Plus Harry's already been punished, having detentions with Malfoy all month!"  
  
Finally reaching his destination, Harry headed directly towards the Gryffindor table without waiting to see if his friends followed. As angry as he was at having been taunted for two hours straight, he privately agreed that Hermione had a point. If tossed Potions ingredients and petty insults were the worst that Malfoy and his gang were going to offer for the humiliation he had given the boy yesterday, it was a light sentence indeed. Unfortunately, the sinking feeling in his stomach reminded him that Malfoy had never in the past offered him any slack, and that this was only just the beginning of the Slytherin's plans for him.  
  
*  
  
After an uneventful first lesson in N.E.W.T. Double Charms with Professor Flitwick and the rest of the Gryffindors in his year, Harry decided it would be a good time to have that meeting with Dumbledore. He only hoped that the headmaster would be there, as he hadn't bothered to make an appointment.  
  
Cursing himself for not getting the password from Hermione (who, as Head Girl, had access to every room in the castle), he rambled off a list of sweets until the stone gargoyle finally moved at the correct one ("Ton- Tongue Toffees!"). He knocked twice on the heavy door, and was relieved when he heard the old wizard invite him in.  
  
Slipping through the door and approaching the center of the ornately decorated office, Harry wasn't surprised to see that Dumbledore seemed to be expecting him. The wise man was seated behind his desk, his hands folded calmly on top of it. He smiled kindly at Harry, and indicated a chair that appeared out of nowhere.  
  
"Mr. Potter," he said brightly, peering over his half-moon spectacles. "I see that you took the Order's advice as to fixing your vision." Harry held back a snort. It had been more of a demand than a request. "You have so much of your father in you that I seem to have, until now, overlooked just how much you resemble your mother. I know you prefer your eyeglasses, Harry, but I am confident you will grow to appreciate seeing without them." Harry ducked his head with a small smile at the reference to his mother.  
  
"However," the Headmaster continued, "I am sure that you haven't come up here to discuss that, hm?" He raised his eyebrows and nodded encouragingly for Harry to speak.  
  
Harry took a breath and began. "Well, last night I had a vision of Voldemort, sir. I. er.. sort of forgot to practice my Occlumency before I went to bed." He paused, blushing for the second time that day, afraid that he would be scolded.  
  
Dumbledore stroked his beard with one hand and waved Harry's worries away with the other. "I see," he said, a very bright twinkle in his eye. "And what happened in your vision?"  
  
"Well, Voldemort was extremely angry. I couldn't really be clear on what, exactly, but he was punishing a Death Eater for failing to do a job. He said something about losing a great ally. He was about to say more, but I woke up."  
  
Dumbledore gave a wide smile and offered Harry a piece of candy before he responded. "Indeed, I would imagine that Voldemort is feeling rather frustrated at the moment. The Light had an incredible victory last night, Harry." He leaned back in his chair and adjusted his glasses. "As you undoubtedly learned from Hagrid last winter, Grawp was sent to further our attempts to convince the giants to join us in our fight against Lord Voldemort and his army." Harry nodded, feeling his heart fill with hope and expectation. "He has succeeded. Yesterday afternoon, I received an owl from Madam Maxime, who in turn had gotten word from Grawp himself, saying that the giants intend to sever all ties with the Dark forces. They asked only that we allow a small number of representatives to live in the Dark Forest, to ensure that they can keep an eye on our progress."  
  
Harry thought he would explode with excitement and joy. "That's wonderful news, professor!" he grinned. "Is there really enough room for more than one giant to stay in the Forest?"  
  
The older wizard confirmed that there was plenty of space. "If you would inform Miss. Granger and Mr. Weasley of what I have just told you, I think that you will have plenty of time to celebrate with Hagrid before dinnertime. He was most anxious to see the three of you last night, and was probably hoping you'd stop by later today so that he could tell you all about it."  
  
Harry nodded, having already been planning to visit the gamekeeper's hut. 'So THAT'S why he was so cheery this morning at breakfast,' he realized, bidding Dumbledore a good day and hurrying down the spiral staircase away from the office. He could picture his friends' thrilled faces when he told them the news. 'Hagrid must be overcome with pride for his half-brother's success.' No amount of storm clouds, flung eels eyes, or stolen house points could take away the delight he felt at the thought that the Light might actually win this war afterall.  
  
*  
  
The three Gryffindors and Hagrid celebrated straight through dinner, instead opting to munch on an assortment of sweets and some butterbeer (along with ale for Hagrid) that the half-giant had stashed away in a cupboard for just such an occasion. It was a quarter after eight when a slightly tipsy Hagrid asked Harry when he had to leave for his detention.  
  
Swearing loudly, Harry took off running towards the castle, trying desperately to wrench his teeth apart from the piece of homemade treacle fudge he had been chewing. Breathing heavily from his sprint, he reached the doors of the Great Hall to see an extremely irritated Draco Malfoy leaning against the wall, arms crossed.  
  
"You're late," he growled, immediately grabbing Harry's arm roughly and directing him up a few stairs and further into the castle. "For that you can add another week's worth of detention. I am NEVER to be kept waiting, understand, Potter?"  
  
Harry, unable to open his mouth to speak because of the fudge, could only glare at the blonde, but he nodded angrily to show that he had heard him. Instead of loosening at his acquiescence, Malfoy's grip tightened. "You're to answer when I ask you a question," he snapped, as he pulled Harry through a passage that lead towards the library.  
  
The Gryffindor rolled his eyes slightly, but finally managed to swallow the candy. "Yes, Your Majesty, I understand," he replied sarcastically.  
  
Malfoy stopped moving abruptly and turned around, causing Harry to trip into him. The grey-eyed boy shoved Harry's back against the wall. "I grow weary of your impertinence, Potter. Ten points from Gryffindor. Apparently even five weeks of detention isn't enough to teach you some manners," he said heatedly. "Or perhaps," he stepped closer so that the front of his robes lightly touched Harry's chest, and leaned his right hand on the wall next to his rival's head. "Perhaps you ENJOY the idea of spending so much time with me. At night. Alone."  
  
Trembling at the proximity of the other boy and the severe reminder of his fantasy from the night before, Harry resisted the sudden and unexpected urge to pull the boy nearer. Instead he shook his head violently, and tried to make his voice as hateful as possible. "Why the hell would I ever want to be around you?" He inwardly grimaced when it came out slightly shaky.  
  
Malfoy caught hold of some of the midnight locks that had caressed his pale hand during the Gryffindor's ferocious movements, twisting them around a slender finger. He leaned forward until his face was only an inch away from Harry's, looking directly into the emerald pools. "Oh, I could think of a few reasons, couldn't you?" he murmered softly, and for one eternal and confusing second Harry thought the Slytherin was going to kiss him. His eyelids dropped a bit in anticipation, his breath hitched, as he studied the pink lips in front of him.  
  
He was slowly brought back to reality when that same mouth curled into a sneer, the silver eyes hardening to ice. "But it seems you've forgotten what I've already told you once before, HARRY. I'd never fuck someone so beneath my status." He clucked his tongue mockingly. "Poor Potter. Whatever will you do about THIS?" He pressed a thigh against the hardness in Harry's trousers.  
  
Shocked at his own reaction, Harry aggressively threw Malfoy off of him. Malfoy smiled in pleasure at Harry's obvious fury and humiliation. "Now that we've settled who's in charge here," Malfoy said casually, examining his nails, as though he were speaking about the weather, "it's time for me to explain what exactly your punishment entails. That is, if you've gotten enough control over your desire for me that your erection won't distract you from listening?"  
  
Flushing a beet red, Harry stared down at his shoes, still unable to comprehend what had just happened. Malfoy took a step closer.  
  
"I told you to answer me when I speak to you," he ordered sharply.  
  
Desperate in his wish for Malfoy to not come any nearer, he muttered a quiet, "Yes, I'm fine," this time with genuine loathing. Some unknown power kept him from lashing out at the blonde with his fists.  
  
Satisfied, Malfoy began to walk down the hall again. "Then follow me. We're going to the library, where you will stay until midnight, ensuring that every single book is in its proper place."  
  
Harry gaped at Malfoy's back, trailing behind him, astonishment overcoming embarrassment. "But that's impossible! I'll never finish that in less than four hours!"  
  
Entering the library's double-doors, the Head Boy smirked and lowered his voice so as not to draw Madam Pince's attention. "Well, then, I suppose it's lucky for you that you have five weeks to complete it. And I advise you to not slack off when you think nobody's looking, because if you haven't finished organizing the entire library's collection by the end of your assigned detentions, I'll be more than happy to extend your punishment so that you can do so." He pointed in the direction of some shelves. "You can start over there, in the Transfiguration section. I'll be doing work at one of the tables if you have any questions, but I trust that even your simple brain can understand this assignment." With that, the Slytherin left Harry standing alone.  
  
Slowly, he made his way over to the shelves Malfoy had indicated, dragging his feet. What the HELL had just happened?? Was his reaction to Malfoy just his hormones going crazy after not being physically close to anyone since last year with Susan? He couldn't believe that he thought Malfoy would actually kiss him, right there in the middle of a public hall, much less at all. 'Not only that, but you WANTED him to do it,' an inner voice hissed nastily. 'Admit it. It was taking all your strength not to grab him and kiss him anyway, even after he made it clear how much you disgust him.'  
  
For some reason, this thought caused a small tightness in his chest, but he quickly brushed it aside. This was ridiculous. He REFUSED to even be mildly attracted to Draco-I-Hate-Mudbloods-Malfoy. Harry hated him almost as much as he hated Voldemort. He was an insufferable, spoiled, bigoted prat who couldn't catch a snitch to save his sorry arse, and, most importantly, he was MALE. Harry was most certainly not interested in men.  
  
Reassured that he found the bastard as distasteful as ever, he turned his focus onto the task he had been given. He groaned at the thought of spending so much time locked up in the library, but he had been expecting something much worse for punishment, like cleaning out Moaning Myrtle's bathroom with his own toothbrush. Hermione would probably die of jealousy that he got to handle every single one of the thousands of books in the library every night.  
  
He resolutely began to alphabetize the Transfiguration section according to the author's last name. Midnight was a long way off, but he wanted to get as much finished as possible. 'I'll be damned before I let Malfoy find a reason to stretch this punishment out longer than he already has,' he thought determinedly.  
  
*  
  
By the time twelve o'clock rolled around, Harry never wanted to see another book for as long as he lived. This had to be the most tedious thing he had ever done in his life, including when he used to count the cracks in the wall of his cupboard, after being locked in it by his uncle for a prolonged period of time. His eyes were tired and his calves hurt from squatting to reach the lower shelves, and he felt extremely cranky.  
  
He hesitantly went over to the desk Malfoy was seated at, annoyed to see that the Slytherin was somehow still wide-awake and engrossed in a Potions text. Seeing Harry approach, he snapped the book shut and put it in his bag.  
  
"It's midnight," Harry ground out. "Can I go now?" He remembered his promise to Hermione that he would apologize, and almost laughed at the thought. He had been mortified enough for one night, and wasn't feeling particularly guilty for outing the other boy anymore.  
  
Malfoy looked pleased with Harry's submission to his authority, however forced. "You may go, Potter," he said generously, waving a hand to the door. "You'll meet me here tomorrow, at eight." He looked at Harry harshly. "DON'T be late. If that happens again, I'll happily take fifty points from Gryffindor. Now get out."  
  
Grinding his teeth to stop any sort of retort, Harry stomped towards the exit. Malfoy's voice behind him brought him to a pause, his hand on the door.  
  
"Oh, and Potter?" he called coolly. "You know the not-so-secret hard on you had earlier? Rest assured that it won't remain a secret by morning. I wonder what everyone in the school will think when they hear that their little celebrity is as queer as the evil Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott."  
  
Harry spun around, unable to contain his rage. He opened his mouth to viciously tell Malfoy what he thought of him, and to inform the horrible git that despite his earlier reaction he was STRAIGHT, thank you very much, but the Slytherin quickly brushed past him and out the door.  
  
Harry violently pushed the door open to follow, but Malfoy was no where to be seen in the dim hall. Dreading the next day, Harry fumed while he walked back to Gryffindor Tower. Thanks to Malfoy, his thoughts were again so preoccupied that practicing Occlumency was pretty much a joke. It looked like it would be another difficult, sleep-deprived night.  
  
Yep, he really, REALLY did hate the asshole.  
  
A/N: Thank you, reviewers!! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! (  
  
Aroha50: I was a little unsure of how long that scene ended up too, but the hair thing will be brought up briefly in a later time, so I decided to keep it. That's actually the only scene where there will be characters who are not in the canon (not counting the new DADA prof. JKR always has a new one, so I'm sticking to the tradition.). Very rarely have I enjoyed an OC in the fics I've read. Since that was a store Harry had never been in, I had to make up some random people seeing as no one he knows cuts hair, but that's my limit. JKR provides plenty of characters and names to use, and part of my notes for this story actually include a list of all the student names I could find in the books, each listed under their proper year and house, so that if I ever need a background character they will be canon. The only things I've taken liberty with are placing some 7th years (like Eloise Midgen, Morag MacDougal, etc.) into specific houses, b/c JKR never tells us which they are in. It turned out that each house in Harry's year ended up with exactly 8 people in it, so in my fic Hogwarts is substantially less populated than JKR says it's supposed to be, but I refuse to add in new students. Good thing you like Draco being nasty, because he's gonna stay that way for a while!  
  
Bluebutterfly9: I chose Nott for a few reasons, but mainly because a) I didn't want to do Draco/Blaise, b/c that's seen all the time (and Draco with Crabbe or Goyle is just foul), and b) in OotP, Malfoy and Nott are seen in the library together by Harry, so we know they're friends already b/c their fathers are Death Eaters. Glad you thought Hermione was IC! I'm really trying my hardest to keep the characters as canon as possible, though with slash stories it's always more difficult, I guess.  
  
Lully: Ooh, you're intrigued are you? Me too! ;-) I've had the outline written out for this fic since before OotP came out, and had to make some alterations to keep it canon, so I've spent many an hour perfecting this plot over the summer. I deliberately have kept my summary very vague so that everything will be a surprise later on. I plan on playing a few mind games with my readers as to what is going to happen in the story. I want you all to be just as confused as poor Harry is gonna be!  
  
Hoopla: I'm so glad you're enjoying this story! I can't tell you how much your reviews have encouraged me to keep writing: I would never leave a fic unfinished (that's just cruel), but now I'm just so muchmore eager to complete the next chapter and get it posted for you all! For a brief moment when I was coming up with this story I considered switching POVs, but decided against it for the same reasons you mentioned. Plus I think it makes the story more interesting when the reader doesn't know what Draco is thinking about Harry and has to guess. Does he really like him or not? That will be a big question in later chapters. I am definitely not going to add in any PWP scenes, don't worry. Harry's also not going to "come out" for a while ("If at all," the evil author added mysteriously.), so he's not about to start getting it on with his archrival for no reason. I considered doing a Sorting Hat song, but didn't for two reasons: 1) the thought of coming up with all that rhyming made me slightly nauseous, and 2) when reading other people's fics, I ALWAYS skip over the SH song, so why torture my own readers? Anyway, thanks for the great review!  
  
Abekka: Yeah, I was a little worried Harry might seem too concerned over Draco, but the stubborn boy loves his guilt too much, what can I say? He actually isn't so bothered that he hurt/embarrassed Malfoy (he still can't stand the boy), though he definitely is regretful that he out-ed him in such a nasty way in front of everyone. He's more disappointed in himself for dropping to the Slytherin level and using prejudiced slurs when he's always been the tolerant Gryffindor, whether the person be (as Draco would say) a mudblood or a werewolf, etc.  
  
Anastasia: I'm definitely thrilled that you're loving the story!! It means a lot to me! I was partial to the Hogwarts Express seen myself, so I'm glad you agree! ( I'll try to always update as soon as possible. I know how painful it is to wait for new chapters, so I'll make a real effort to see that I get a new one up at LEAST once a week, if not more often. I'm having so much fun writing this thing that it's coming together much more quickly than I first anticipated. However, since I'm in my senior year of college, there may be times when the wait is a little longer due to papers/exams/all- that-icky-stuff.  
  
Let me know what you thought!! Please review!! 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Anything canon belongs to JKR.  
  
A/N: Comments for reviewers of Chapter 3 are at the bottom of page! Sorry this chapter took so much longer to get up, but at least it's longer!  
  
~*~  
  
Chapter Four  
  
Harry entered the Great Hall with much trepidation. It was only 7:30 in the morning, but experience told him that it was never too untimely an hour for the Hogwarts Gossip Society to hungrily devour the latest scandal.  
  
'Especially seeing as Malfoy's always been chummy with that big-mouth Parkinson. I wouldn't be surprised if she decided to make up flyers and owl the Daily Prophet,' he thought, hastening to the Gryffindor table, careful not to look at anyone.  
  
He had rushed to breakfast early, raven hair still sopping wet from a fast shower, hoping to avoid any stares from his fellow classmates. Merlin only knew what version Malfoy had given everyone for what had happened last night, though Harry suspected it included some dramatic modification of the actual events. Not that it was necessary; the truth was embarrassing enough to make people whisper, much to his chagrin. He had been ostracized by the ever fickle Wizarding World many times before, but unfortunately that didn't make it any easier to put up with.  
  
Deliberately opting to sit with his back to the Slytherin table and any obnoxious silver eyes that might be focused in his direction, Harry eagerly helped himself to some sausages and fried tomatoes. The last thing he had eaten were the bits of candy at Hagrids, and not even a night of worry could take away the appetite of a growing teenage boy.  
  
It wasn't long until the Hall became more crowded, as tired students gradually trickled in to grab a quick breakfast before their first class. Harry tensed slightly when a group of laughing Gryffindors sat a little further down the bench from him, but relaxed when he realized that they weren't talking about him. He felt better when his old dorm-mates arrived, filling up the seats around him, seemingly clueless as to what had transpired between their good friend and his rival.  
  
'In fact,' Harry noted, as he looked around at all the other houses, 'no one is looking at me anymore than they usually do.' It appeared that Malfoy had been bluffing, probably just to mess with the Gryffindor's mind. Slightly bewildered, Harry decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. He had expected the other boy to play as dirty as his word, and felt a sudden rush of gratitude towards the Slytherin. 'I'm definitely apologizing to him tonight in detention,' he decided, so relieved his fears had been unwarranted.  
  
"Harry, will you please tell me that Ron's kidding?"  
  
Hearing his name brought Harry's attention back from his furtive perusal of the Hall. He turned towards the source, and noticed that Ginny had taken a place next to her brother across the table. Harry blinked when he saw that the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team was watching him, waiting for him to speak.  
  
Seeing his blank expression, Ginny heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Merlin's beard, you could at least PRETEND to listen when your team is trying to discuss the season with you, Captain Potter," she teased, reaching over a plate of toast to flick him on the nose playfully. The petite Gryffindor chaser put on a pitiful face. "Do we honestly have practice four times a week, at 5:30 in the morning this year?" she asked, her eyes pleading him to deny it.  
  
Steeling himself for the whining he knew was to come, Harry nodded. "Sorry, guys, but if I want to make sure we can get in three solid hours on the pitch when we're out there it has to be that early," he told them firmly, in his best Oliver Wood impersonation. "Since I have to be in detention all sodding month, the only times the field was available were before breakfast or during dinner. We don't start practicing until next week, though, so enjoy the extra sleep while you can, kids." He grinned evilly at their dismayed expressions.  
  
"I'd rather give up dinner," fourth year chaser Natalie McDonald muttered grumpily, but her words went unheard, as at that moment somewhere around forty owls came soaring over head, each carrying a scroll of parchment.  
  
"It's not time for mail, yet," Ron frowned, catching one bird's burden, which had fallen in front of him.  
  
Harry was surprised when an unfamiliar barn owl dropped one of the scrolls in front of him as well, narrowly missing his glass of pumpkin juice. He noticed that all the other seventh years had received a piece of mail identical to Ron and his. Assuming it had something to do with the N.E.W.T. exams to be taken that spring, he unrolled the parchment with minor interest-and felt his mouth open in shock at what it contained.  
  
'Oh. My. Fucking. God.' He shut his widened green eyes, praying to any deity that would listen for the writing to change when he opened them again. 'I wasn't serious about the flyer thing!!!!' he shrieked silently, clenching his teeth to keep the words from escaping his lips. Letting his dark lashes lift, his stomach sank, making him feel slightly nauseous. The words and illustration done in bold black ink remained the same:  
  
**"HARRY POTTER: GAY MOLESTER! The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Want-Other-Boys made known his private lust for Slytherin's sexy seeker, Draco Malfoy, late last evening. The Head Boy was hoping to conduct a routine detention in the library, but was apprehended by a horny Potter in the hall before said detention could take place. Despite Malfoy's obvious long-standing hatred for the Gryffindor, Potter forcefully proceeded to try to kiss Malfoy, and rub his grotesquely erect (and small) genitals against Malfoy's unwilling body. "It should have been obvious," an undisclosed source says. "He's often mentioned how his muggle relations made him 'live in the cupboard under the stairs' all his life, and how he was finally able to 'come out of the cupboard' when he got his Hogwarts letter." It is believed the much talked about fight on the Hogwarts Express two days ago came about due to Potter's jealousy that his obsession can't stand the sight of the skinny, mentally unstable half-blood, and that he would rather choose to date someone (anyone) other than him."**  
  
Above the short article was a crude moving sketch of Harry and Malfoy, an embarrassing bulge made quite obvious in the front of Harry's robes, with the drawn Malfoy trying to throw off Harry's advances.  
  
Too stunned and incensed to move, Harry could only life his gaze to see Ron's reaction, who was seated directly across from him. His best friend had gone purple with rage, his freckles no longer visible against the vivid shade, and he was shredding his own flyer into bits.  
  
Finally anger took control of his limbs, and the dark-haired Gryffindor crumpled the piece of parchment into a ball with his left hand. Pulling out his wand with the other, Harry growled, "They'll never find his body," and turned around to stalk over to his Currently Most Hated Enemy (who was unsuccessfully trying to maintain an innocent expression), but felt a restraining hand on his arm hold him back.  
  
"That's just what he wants, for you to make a scene over this pile of bloody rubbish so that he can get you in trouble again," Seamus Finnigan told him, loud enough for all those around them to hear. "Everyone knows he's a lying snake, just trying to get you back for what happened on the Express."  
  
Some of the panic that had been building inside diminished when he saw that the heated and aghast faces surrounding him were nodding in agreement with the Irish wizard, glaring at the blonde Slytherin. Even Hermione, whom Harry had assumed would again defend Malfoy's actions, was scowling darkly.  
  
Catching his eye, she shook her head in obvious disgust. "I guess we shouldn't have expected anything less from the likes of a Malfoy," she stated. "Seamus is right, Harry, don't let him goad you into anything with his foul slander, he's not worth the trouble. No one will believe it anyway."  
  
Taking a calming breath, Harry was pleased to see disappointment and annoyance creep onto Malfoy's face at the lack of the desired reaction around the Hall. He turned angry eyes onto Harry, who, giddy with glee, gave him a sarcastic smile before retaking his seat with exaggerated composure. Ron was still an unhealthy hue, but, at Ginny's encouragement, he also forced himself to sit down and pretend that nothing had interrupted their breakfast.  
  
"So," Euan Abercrombie, Gryffindor's third chaser, began evenly, "about those 5AM practices.."  
  
*  
  
Though it certainly wasn't for a lack of effort on Malfoy's part, Harry's second day at Hogwarts was proving to be a vast improvement over his first. The problematic kink in Malfoy's horrible scheme was that (to Harry's relief, and the Head Boy's frustration) no one other than the Slytherins, who already hated Harry, seemed to care. Malfoy's reputation was stained too dark with a history of malice and deceit for anyone to pay much heed to what he or his cronies had to say. Everyone seemed to find the rumor ludicrous: Harry Potter would never want to be physical with Draco Malfoy -- unless it involved breaking Malfoy's jaw, of course - and Harry was only too happy to let everyone believe what they wanted.  
  
Advanced N.E.W.T. Triple Defense Against the Dark Arts took up the entire morning, lasting from 8:30-11:30AM. Professor Venatici was an older man with a grey mustache that looked like the end of a broom, and was not unlike Professor McGonagall, being both stern and fair. It seemed that this year their lessons would be mostly practical work, which thrilled Harry. The Gryffindor took a liking to him instantly, and silently hoped that Venatici wouldn't turn out to be an evil fraud, as had happened one too many times in Harry's past experiences with DADA professors.  
  
The only real sour point to spending three hours in his favorite subject was that Malfoy was also in it, and Harry spent a good portion of the class period ignoring the icy glares sent his way. The rest of the DADA students made it clear to Malfoy just what they thought of his malicious prank at breakfast by offering the pale boy dirty looks of their own. Even the terrible Draco Malfoy didn't dare do anything worse, as the only other Slytherin in the room was Millicent Bulstrode, and so Harry was temporarily safe from having a repeat performance of yesterday's Potions lesson.  
  
It wasn't until lunch that his day took a small dive. The Rumor Mill was at it again, this time with supposed news concerning Theordore Nott's mysterious disappearance.  
  
According to Parvati Patil (who heard it from her twin sister in Ravenclaw, who heard it from Pansy Parkinson, who heard it from Blaise Zabini) Nott's father had received an anonymous owl regarding his son's involvement with Draco Malfoy directly after Harry let the secret slip on the Hogwarts Express, and had immediately requested for Theodore to be sent home again.  
  
"Isn't it just so shameful?" Parvati gushed, as Harry struggled to repress a fresh surge of regret. "Padma-said-that-Pansy-said-that-BLAISE-said that Theodore's probably not going to come back to Hogwarts, and is either going to finish up his last year of wizarding studies at Durmstrang or being home- schooled. You know, to ensure that he and Draco can't continue with their affair."  
  
Harry, this time seated facing the Slytherins, tried to not pay attention to Parvati and, for some reason he didn't want to think about, attempted to steal a quick look at Malfoy, without being too obvious. The platinum- blonde young man was also sitting in the direction of his nemesis, and was in the middle of a conversation with the Bloody Baron, Slytherin House's resident ghost. Malfoy suddenly gave a brief smile to something the silver blood-stained spirit was saying, and Harry felt part of his chest constrict oddly.  
  
'He definitely looks better when he does that,' he thought, still staring. 'Almost as good as last night, when I thought he was going to....' Cutting off that thought before it could go any farther, Harry shook his head, praying he wasn't blushing. 'Gods, why do I keep wasting my time thinking about the stupid arse? He's not attractive in any sense of the word, and even if he WAS, he's still the evil Death-Eater-wannabe who sent that bloody flyer this morning.' Just then Malfoy glanced his way, and Harry quickly averted his gaze.  
  
Finishing up his lunch, he stubbornly paid no mind to the small voice in his head telling him that, no matter how hard Harry tried to convince himself otherwise, Malfoy was undeniably very handsome. Particularly when up close.  
  
*  
  
Carefully trying to avoid getting any more nights stuck in the stacks or house-points deducted, Harry made sure to arrive at the library five minutes early for his detention. Malfoy was already there, working on what appeared to be an Arithmancy assignment. Harry stood awkwardly next to the table Malfoy was at, but the Slytherin rudely didn't look up until it was exactly eight o'clock.  
  
"Glad to see you could make it, Potter," he sneered, finally acknowledging the other's presence. "And on time for once in your sorry life, too. It seems you can be trained after all."  
  
His nostrils flared slightly, but Harry only replied with a tight, "Should I just start where we left off last night, or do you have something new you want to show me?"  
  
Malfoy smirked and raised an eyebrow suggestively, causing the Gryffindor to curse his own choice of words. Spinning around without waiting for a response, a crimson Harry stalked off for the Transfiguration section.  
  
He worked diligently, only pausing when he had finished sorting all of the books on Transfiguration and had to decide where to go next. The History portion of the library's ancient collection was nearest, so he continued on there, thinking fondly of Hermione when he moved 'Hogwarts: A History' to its proper place.  
  
As the hours stretched on, he grew increasingly bored and, with a cautious glance around him to see if Malfoy was anywhere nearby, he picked up a book titled 'Modern Magical History' to flip through. Settling down on the floor and looking at the index, he was both surprised and sickened to see his own name there, with the sub-heading of 'Boy-Who-Lived.'  
  
"I'll never be able to escape my past," he muttered sullenly. Resisting the temptation to see what the book had to say about him, Harry moved on when something caught his eye. Listed under 'You-Know-Who' was an indention with the words 'Heir of Salazar Slytherin'.  
  
Turning to the page given, Harry read an extraordinarily detailed account of Voldemort's lineage to the Hogwarts founder, which wasn't as interesting as he had thought it would be. He perked up slightly when it mentioned that Godric Gryffindor and his descendants had a legendary rivalry with Slytherin's family. Having never heard of any heirs to Gryffindor (or any of the other house founders, for that matter), an intrigued Harry checked the index and discovered a section labeled 'Hogwarts Founder Heirs'.  
  
There were only a couple of pages, to Harry's disappointment, most of which further elaborated on Voldemort's ties to Slytherin. The text mentioned that the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff lines had both been wiped out during the attempted reign of the dark wizard Grindelwald, which he briefly skimmed over. At the end of the passage, Harry saw what he had been looking for.  
  
"Godric Gryffindor," he read quietly to himself, "produced a long line of powerful wizards, including Hirtus Figulus, who is Gryffindor's last known heir. Figulus, forsaking the bravery his heritage was famous for, ran away abruptly when Grindelwald made it clear he intended to destroy the Heirs of Hogwarts, never to be seen again. Only Slytherin's heir, You-Know-Who, was kept safe, because he was still a student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry at the time, and under the direct protection of Albus Dumbledore (See Hogwarts Headmasters in index)."  
  
Harry was about to research 'Hirtus Figulus' when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He quickly slammed the book shut and shoved it back where it belonged, trying his best to appear like he had been doing his assigned job the entire time.  
  
Malfoy walked over to where Harry was sitting crouched on the floor, pretending to be completely absorbed in reorganizing the bottom shelf, and cleared his throat loudly. Harry squinted up at him, his eyes genuinely tired from having been reading for so long.  
  
As his vision refocused, he had to swallow with great difficulty. Malfoy was leaning against the bookshelf, his arms folded in front of him, amusement dancing across his pale features. Harry's thoughts were forcefully taken back to Flourish and Blotts, the place where this horrible mess with Malfoy had first began, and the inevitable image of the two kissing Slytherins crept back.  
  
After a few seconds of the flustered Gryffindor gawking at him, Malfoy rolled his silver eyes impatiently. "I know I'm unbearably gorgeous, Potty, but do you think you can forget about that for a minute?"  
  
Harry blinked himself into the present, kicking himself for being so distracted by the boy in front of him. 'The last thing I need is for Malfoy to tell all of his little friends that I have a crush and drooled all over him,' he scolded.  
  
"What do you want then?" he asked harshly, turning back to his task so that he wouldn't have to look at the blonde any longer. He violently thrust 'Great Wizarding Events of the 20th Century' next to 'Great Wizarding Events of the 19th Century'.  
  
Malfoy snorted, not bothering to mention his rival's failure to deny his previous statement. "It's already 12:30," he said, holding up a wizard equivalent of a pocket watch. "Unless you want to spend the entire night here, I would recommend you run back up to your tower." He made to leave, but paused, turning to face the Gryffindor. "I must say, Potter, I've never seen you so dedicated to getting something done. Perhaps this experience will do your lazy ass a bit of good. It's a lesson you desperately need to learn. Not everything in life will be handed over to you on a golden platter just because you're famous, Potter. I guarantee that with me in charge, you're going to learn what it means to actually have to work, just like the rest of us."  
  
Thinking of all the back-breaking labor he had done over the years at the Dursley's, Harry couldn't help the laughter that escaped at the end of Malfoy's condescending speech. He finally picked himself up from the ground, dusting off his slacks. "Malfoy, you have no idea what you're talking about," he began, still chuckling despite the apparent anger on the Slytherin's face. "Besides, you're certainly one to talk, seeing as your own precious hands have probably never lifted anything heavier than your wand."  
  
Quicker than Harry could blink, said wand was pointed directly at him. "Maybe you're right," Malfoy said smoothly, stepping closer to a much more sober Harry, "but I assure you that I've grown quite good at not only carrying my wand, but using it." The insinuation wasn't lost on the raven- haired teenager, who felt a brief moment of panic. Seeing Harry start to reach for his own wand, Malfoy pressed the tip of the wood against Harry's chest. "I don't think so, Golden Boy."  
  
"What, are you going to curse me, Malfoy?" Harry taunted, feigning indifference to both the danger of the situation and the effect the boy's nearness was having on him. "Still after your bit of revenge, seeing as how your plan this morning didn't quite take off like you wanted?"  
  
Malfoy's eyes narrowed slightly, and a flash of puzzlement crossed his face so swiftly that Harry wasn't sure if he had imagined it. They stood glaring at each other for a solid minute before Malfoy finally moved, closing the distance between them. Harry froze, unsure of whether he should back up or not. Some strange part of him desperately wanted to stay where he was, even press more firmly against his enemy, but a voice of reason had him walking backwards until he felt the resistance of a bookshelf behind him.  
  
Step for step, Malfoy followed, smirking when the Gryffindor could go no further. Lifting his free hand, Malfoy took Harry's chin in a tight grasp, preventing the emerald gaze from looking away. It was all Harry could do to stay still, the feel of Malfoy's skin on his own making him painfully confused as to whether he wanted to grab Malfoy or spit on him.  
  
Suddenly a small smile inched across Malfoy's lips. "Don't worry, Potter. It's taking off perfectly," he whispered. The hand retreated its grip, but Malfoy didn't move away. "Same time and place tomorrow night," he concluded softly.  
  
The loss of physical contact helped Harry to be able to think once more, and with the ability came the horrible awareness that he wanted Malfoy's touch again. He was about to give up fighting and lean forward into the Slytherin when Malfoy finally decided to back off, giving plenty of space between the two of them.  
  
With one last look at his archrival, Malfoy turned and walked out of the aisle, leaving a stunned Harry to watch his exit.  
  
*  
  
Later that night, Harry lay in his bed, still thoroughly baffled at Malfoy's behavior and his own reaction to it. He had sat in the library for a good fifteen minutes after Malfoy had left, paralyzed. It was only now, in the comfort of his own room, that everything began to sink in. Bewildered almost to the point of tears, he tried to logically sort out what had happened.  
  
'Okay,' he thought, pulling his Gryffindor-red covers more tightly around him. 'Malfoy just.... What? What did he do exactly? Threatened me? Challenged me? FLIRTED with me, for Merlin's sake??' Rolling over, he smothered his face into his pillow, trying to erase the last hour from his mind.  
  
When his breath started to run out, he turned his head to the side, and breathed in the fresh air coming in the open tower window, briefly wondering how Lupin was doing when he saw the moon was full, before returning to the problem at hand. The only way he could think of to sum everything up was this: Malfoy was a homosexual; Malfoy had made ADVANCES towards HIM (in fact, he seemed rather fond of getting Harry backed up against walls), a decidedly heterosexual boy; and Harry had found each situation embarrassing, revolting, infuriating.. But also, admittedly intriguing, exciting, and arousing.  
  
'So where does this leave me? Does that mean I'm turning gay, too?' Harry questioned. There was no way in the seven realms of hell that he was going to act on these feelings, whatever they were. He would just have to avoid Malfoy as if he had the plague, which apparently the wizarding world held in equivalence with being homosexual. 'I'll apologize tomorrow in detention, so that I can get that obstacle over with, and that's it. Other than that, I completely ignore the prat - no matter WHAT,' he determined.  
  
*  
  
Project 'Avoid Ferret' was much easier said than done. Harry hadn't taken into account that his night would be filled with restless dreams of Malfoy (undoubtedly induced from spending too much time thinking about the Slytherin), which he could barely even remember in the morning. This could be easily fixed with a simple Dreamless Sleep Draught from Madam Pomfrey, however, so he wasn't too worried. He would just tell her that they were Voldemort related and the motherly nurse would practically shove the Draught down his throat each night before bed.  
  
He also had to spend two hours locked in the dungeons with Malfoy for their Potions class, but he toughed it out, sticking to his resolve even when Malfoy and his friends began to picking on him again throughout the lesson, until even Snape had enough of the distractions and threatened to take a point away from his own house. During meals, he sat at his table with his back to the Slytherins, not even allowing himself the opportunity to look in Malfoy's direction, despite his irrational longing to.  
  
The day went rather quickly, and Harry soon found himself trudging over to the library at eight o'clock on the button. He decided to not bother checking in with Malfoy, and instead headed directly to the History section. Only then did he remember what he had read about Hirtus Figulus, and he took care to put some books aside that had the name listed in the back, with the intentions of taking the texts back to his dormitory. The subject fascinated him, and the curious Gryffindor thought perhaps Hermione and Ron would want to help him research what could have possibly happened to their founder's heir.  
  
"Hermione probably already knows all about it," he muttered to himself, imagining her reaction when he brought it up ("We studied this in Binn's class last year! If you and Ron had actually paid attention and taken notes instead of falling asleep and leaving me to do it for you, you might have heard the professor mention it!")  
  
He had only been working for half an hour when Malfoy predictably came stalking over, unpleasantness etched on his face. Harry continued to ignore him until the blonde finally spoke. "If you insist on not letting me know when you arrive, I'll have to assume that you were late," Malfoy scowled, running a hand over his slicked pale hair. Remembered how soft and strong that hand had felt last night on his chin, Harry merely shrugged, refusing to look fully at the Head Boy. His frown darkening at Harry's lack of response, Malfoy continued, "Well, then, that's fifty points from Gryffindor. I warned you about this the other day, Potter."  
  
THAT got the green-eyed boy's attention. He turned around, glaring, and was about to offer a nasty retort at this injustice when he was reminded of the reason for his plan and stopped. Even when completely furious, his body reacted to the strange new attraction it felt for Malfoy. He pushed this as far away from his consciousness as he could, trying to focus instead on what he needed to say. The difficulty he found in such a simple task just made it all the more important to get it over with.  
  
"Malfoy," he began as rushed and sincere as he could manage with his striking rival raising an arrogant eyebrow and tapping an impatient foot at him, "I'm really sorry for blurting out your secret to everyone on the train. I said some truly horrible things that I'm ashamed of, and I hope that I haven't caused too much trouble for you or Nott." The other silver eyebrow lifted to be level with the first. Whatever Malfoy had been expecting of the Gryffindor, this was clearly the last, and Harry concealed a smirk of his own as the boy gaped at him.  
  
Suddenly a look of understanding crossed his face, and, quickly regaining his composure, Malfoy folded his arms, stone faced. "Are you finished, Potter?" At Harry's hesitant nod, he continued coldly, "I'm not going to reinstate the house points, so I'm afraid you've just humbled yourself for nothing. Did that at least help to alleviate some of the guilt you've been feeling? Will you be able to sleep soundly now, you selfish bastard? Because I assure you that I don't, so just fuck off with your pathetic apologies." Harry was astounded and appalled to see genuine hurt hidden in the stormy grey eyes that fixed angrily onto his own emerald ones. Without another word, the Slytherin walked away.  
  
Harry stood frozen still, watching him go, and felt the sudden urge to call him back and heal whatever pain he had caused the taller teenager. He hadn't realized how powerfully his slip of tongue had affected Malfoy, he had thought Malfoy was practically made out of ice, incapable of actual feelings. He wasn't able to sleep properly because of what happened?  
  
'Okay, this is worse than I originally thought,' he worried silently. 'It's one thing to be going through some teenage phase that has me lusting after my enemy, but to actually be CONCERNED and CARE about the git?? That's entirely unacceptable! How is he having this influence on me?' Whatever it was, there was no use in denying his own response to Malfoy any longer. The bugger had gotten to him somehow, and now he had to find a way of either dealing with it, or getting rid of it. Preferably the latter of the two.  
  
Chewing his lower lip in concentration, an idea struck him out of nowhere. It was so obvious that Harry almost laughed at his foolishness in not having considered it before. 'Of course! How could I have been so stupid?' He was a wizard, by Merlin's beard! There had to be some sort of magical solution to his predicament. He knew there were such things as love potions, though most were considered dark and illegal, but all he had to do was find a proper legal spell or potion that would do the reverse, making his enemy an enemy once more, and he would be cured of this affliction that had taken hold of him. It was a task made quite attainable considering that he had the entire Hogwarts library to look through at his disposal, thanks to his month of detention.  
  
Relief swept through him like a refreshing breeze. As soon as he found the spell, this entire ordeal would be over and he could move on with his life, continuing to hate Malfoy just as much as he ever had. There would be no more stolen glances, no more being caught off-guard by the pangs in his chest, and no more turning into a queer.  
  
Now that he had an actual tactic for this War of the Emotions, he wanted to get it over and done with as soon as possible. Picking up the books he had selected from the History section, Harry eagerly made his way to Spells and Enchantments. Slowly arranging them in their proper order, Harry spent the rest of his detention taking special care to check any volume that looked like it could be of use to him.  
  
Only once did he pause to consider that perhaps this wasn't the best idea, as magic that dealt with the emotions was extremely temperamental and he was yet a fully trained wizard, but he quickly squashed the growing uncertainty. He may not know everything, but he was still a damned good wizard, according to most, having cast a corporal Patronus at the age of thirteen. And this was his only option, as he utterly REFUSED to have any sort of desire or feelings for his nemesis, and didn't dare wait for them to go away on their own for fear that they simply wouldn't.  
  
'Once I've cast the spell, everything will be normal again,' he reassured himself.  
  
Now all he had to do was hold back any passion he felt when he was stuck around Malfoy until then. He winced inwardly at the inner voice that told him that this, too, would be easier said than done.  
  
~*~  
  
A/N: Thank you reviewers!! The next chapter things will begin to get a bit more complicated! ;-)  
  
Bluebutterfly9: Much to his dismay, Harry is slowly coming to the same conclusion that he fancies Malfoy. Denial can only last so long. As for his temper, I'm almost tempted to do a fake!scene now where Harry just starts spouting off at old Voldie; that would be pretty hilarious ("You sodding albino!! If you try to Avada Kedavra me one more time, I swear I'll shove that brother wand of yours up your lily-white arse!!"). I'm glad you agree about Nott. I definitely wouldn't want to have my story induce vomiting by describing Malfoy running his hands over Crabbe's quivering gut *shudder*. Dumbledore was extremely happy, hence the laid- back tone. I thought I'd give the poor man a break, since later on he's going to have to be a more Serious!Dumbledore. Don't apologize for missing chapter two's reviews! I'm thrilled that you've reviewed at all, and I'll definitely do my best to keep the chapters coming quickly.  
  
Abekka: They both definitely have brat-like qualities, yes, LOL. The animosity will be going on for quite some time, I promise. I definitely agree about the love/hate thing, though poor Harry is cursing us for finding pleasure in his agony. They have way too many issues and history to work out before they can seriously move to a new stage, even if Harry really wants to just snog Draco and be done with it sometimes. Thanks for reviewing!!!  
  
Lully: Oh, Draco isn't about to let Harry off easily, no doubt about that. He fully intends to play mind-games with the Gryffindor for as long as possible. Harry squirming is always nice imagery ;-). trust me when I say that he's not going to have a very easy time of it, whether Nott's around or not.  
  
Hpgryffin: You're welcome! You're welcome! :-) I'm so glad that you're not only reading this story but enjoying it! I'm having an obscene amount of fun writing it, so I'm glad the good vibes are going around. And I'm pretty sure you'll be satisfied with the amount of torture poor Harry is going to go through on account of that evil Slytherin. I haven't labeled this thing "angst" for nothing!!! Also, the chapters will remain at LEAST as long as they've been, if not longer at times. I usually try to keep it between 4,000 and 5,000 words to make sure it's a substantial amount of material. I get so frustrated when fics have super-short chapters that could be filled out more.  
  
Hoopla: Thank you! I absolutely love reading your reviews. I'm glad you liked the last detention scene, and I hope the one in chapter four isn't too cliché! I didn't intend for them to have such a long interlude in this chapter, but the boys insisted and it just came out that way, LOL. The Dumbledore scene was important to me, because I want to make sure that while this story is slash, it doesn't JUST focus on Harry and Malfoy getting together. There is still a war going on, and no matter what is happening in Harry's love life, his friends and impending battle with Voldemort should always be somewhere on his mind, in my opinion.  
  
Meia: Thanks for reviewing! I'm so happy you're liking the story, and I'll try to update sooner next time. This chapter proved to be tricky.  
  
Artemis Astralstar: Yeah, Harry earned his punishment for sure thanks to that nasty temper of his. Sorry this chapter wasn't out sooner! I was hoping to get at least one out a week, but schoolwork got heavy and this chapter was challenging for some reason, so it's a little later than I had hoped. Hope you enjoy it as much as the others!  
  
Krazchic: Good call on Draco "trying" to convince people that Harry was gay with no proof! No, he didn't have a Crotch-Cam, LOL. Maybe I can work that into a future chapter ;-) (kidding, of course!). While you say "must read more" I'm thinking "must WRITE more," so its good to see that we're on the same page of things! Hopefully the next chapter won't take as long to get out. Thanks for reviewing!! 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Anything from canon is JKR's.  
  
A/N: Comments for reviewers of Chapter 4 are at the bottom of the page! Also I would like to give a HUGE thank you to Winter De Salis and smart- witch31 for adding me to their favorites list!! That's so unbelievably flattering, I can't even begin to describe how encouraging it is for me to know you enjoy the story that much!  
  
I'd also like to say that I am so sorry this took as long as it did. I had a period of writer's block, but mostly this is late because it was a difficult chapter to get through, but if it's any consolation, it is the longest chapter I've written yet. There is a lot happening here that will affect the story later on, so if it seems a little slow at points, I apologize. I promise that things will begin to pick up action-wise next chapter and that Draco will be in it more than he is this one, so please stick with me!  
  
~*~  
  
Chapter Five  
  
A sigh of frustration escaped his lips as Harry closed yet another useless book. Absently rubbing his slightly aching scar, he put the thick, aged tome away, only to immediately pick up a new one. He gave a small cough at the dust that flew up when he opened the yellowed pages.  
  
Harry was beginning to get impatient. He had been searching for some sort of anti-love spell for almost a week now, to no avail. There had been a few charms mentioned that might have done the trick, but none that Harry could use on himself, as most spells required two subjects to work properly: the caster, and object the spell is intended for.  
  
The only form of magic that the Gryffindor thought he would be able to properly implement on himself was Potions, much to Harry's disgruntlement. Suddenly he found himself wishing that he had spent more time listening to Professor Snape's long, droning lectures.  
  
'The horrible man might have actually said something useful,' Harry scowled, flipping through the table of contents, only to come up with nothing once more. Disgusted, he thrust the text back on the shelf.  
  
Just as his hand was reaching for another, all of the magically lit candles in the library were simultaneously extinguished, and Harry suddenly found himself in pitch darkness.  
  
"Malfoy!" he shouted into the shadows, childishly stomping his foot in annoyance. "You stupid git! Stop doing that!"  
  
The Head Boy had barely spoken a word to Harry since his clumsy apology the previous week, and Harry was only too content to let the Slytherin remain silent. With Malfoy actively ignoring him, avoiding the Slytherin and any awkward situations was made substantially easier. Harry conveniently chose to disregard any thoughts suggesting that part of him craved and missed getting attention from his rival, awkward or otherwise.  
  
Unfortunately, Malfoy's refusal to speak extended to neglecting to inform the green-eyed boy (who was often preoccupied by his desperate research) when the nightly detentions were over. Instead, Harry was alerted that midnight had arrived only when Malfoy turned out the lights before returning to his dorm, leaving Harry to fumble his way out with a weak 'Lumus' from the tip of his wand to show him what lay directly in front of him.  
  
Muttering the spell under his breath now, Harry once more made for the exit, his arms empty despite hours of looking for a useful book to help him in his task. He couldn't help but feel grim.  
  
Things were progressively getting worse, even with Malfoy steering clear, and Harry was almost frightened at how rapidly his perspective of the blonde was changing. He still couldn't stand the other boy; he was an insufferable, stubborn, arrogant brat, after all. And yet Harry found himself more and more distracted from his determined hatred by such little things that should have been of no consequence. It could be something as simple and unintentional as a silver lock of sternly gelled hair falling out of place and into grey eyes, or the muscle in Malfoy's cheek that twitched when he clenched his jaw in concentration, or..  
  
The list went on. It had become disturbingly inevitable that if Malfoy was in the same room, Harry's gaze would eventually wander in his direction. He had begun to notice strange and unrelated things he had never paid any mind to before: Malfoy was left-handed, but used his right to stir his cauldron; all of his school robes were made of a rich, smooth material that clung to Malfoy's slender frame; Malfoy always sat up-straight and facing the rest of the Great Hall at meals, sitting between Crabbe and Goyle but never talking to them; Malfoy kept his Head Boy badge as shiny and clean as Percy Weasley ever did, revealing that the blonde was genuinely proud of earning such a position; Malfoy rarely gave a true smile, but when he did it lit up his entire face, melting the ice that was normally in his eyes.  
  
'This has to stop,' Harry groaned silently, stopping outside the portrait of the Fat Lady and rubbing his face, exasperated with himself. 'Don't think about him, Potter. You can NOT be a queer. What would Mum and Dad have thought?' That had become his mantra these past few days. Regrettably, it didn't seem to be working too well.  
  
"Yes?" The Fat Lady asked impatiently, tapping her foot. "Are you going to give me the password sometime tonight, Mr. Potter?"  
  
Harry blinked up at her blankly for a moment. "Oh, right," he said, snapping himself out of his contemplation. "Flower Necture."  
  
The pink clad woman inclined her head slightly in acceptance before allowing the portrait to swing open and reveal the Gryffindor Common Room. The embers were slowly dying in the fireplace, and it looked as though all of Harry's housemates were already in bed, which was unsurprising considering it was a quarter after 12AM. Harry was grateful to be able to avoid any conversation, and instead just bustled along directly to his dormitory.  
  
A small sigh of relief escaped his lips when he finally threw himself onto his bed - quickly to be followed by an exhausted whimper of aggravation. Detention may be over, but he still had to complete his homework for the next day, not to mention that tomorrow was Friday, which meant he had scheduled Quidditch practice for 5:30 sharp.  
  
These late nights allowed him a maximum of a mere four hours sleep, and they were rapidly starting to take their toll on the raven-haired Gryffindor. With the added stress of worrying over Voldemort, N.E.W.T.S., the upcoming Quidditch season, and Draco Malfoy and the Elusive Anti-Love Spell, he felt he would surely crumble under all of the pressure. Harry had never been more thankful that Dumbledore had had the foresight to make Ron a house prefect instead of him.  
  
Dragging himself off of his deliciously comfortable four-poster, Harry carried his worn leather school bag over to his desk and plopped down in the chair. Taking out his Potions textbook and a piece of parchment, he tried to force his tired mind to concentrate on writing the assigned essay: Describe and explain the purpose of the ingredients used in the Integumentum Fusion.  
  
"The first thing the Fusion calls for is five butterfly wings." Harry remembered, doggedly turning the pages of 'Furthering Your Potion Knowledge.' He flicked to the back of the book, slowly scouring through the index's 'B' pages.  
  
'Bones of a Mummy..' He read, 'Bravery in a Bottle.. Broken Heart Elixer..' Pausing, Harry ran the tip of his index finger over the last, frowning deeply in deliberation. 'That could be handy.'  
  
Carefully opening the text to the page indicated, Harry was disappointed to see that there was only a short paragraph included on the Elixer, but what it said was enough to make his heart rate quicken in excitement. 'This might be it!' he thought triumphantly. Looking it over once more, Harry had swiftly started to copy it down onto the parchment when he heard his door creak open.  
  
"Harry? You awake?"  
  
Harry turned to see Ron's head peeking from behind the doorway. Catching sight of Harry seated at his desk, Ron quietly entered the room, shutting the door behind him.  
  
"Hey, is everything alright?" Harry asked, and was concerned to notice the redness in Ron's eyes that suggested his best friend had been crying. Quickly standing, Harry ushered a sniffling Ron into the chair. "What's wrong?"  
  
Ron was making a futile effort to hide his tears, clearly embarrassed at the display. "It's nothing, really, I don't know why I'm acting like such a baby," he mumbled, his cheeks a pale pink. "It's just. Well, Herm and I had a row. Sh- she broke up with me."  
  
"Again?" Harry blurted before he could bite his tongue, and then winced when Ron's lip began to tremble again. 'Way to be sensitive, Potter,' he thought sarcastically, and awkwardly hugged the distraught redhead.  
  
Gaining control of his emotions, Ron nodded. "She started harping on me about what I'm going to do after graduation again, and I just flipped out and starting yelling back for her to mind her own business," he sniffed. "She told me that if I can't even plan a future for MYSELF, how can she expect to be a part of it." He accepted a handkerchief that Harry offered, and blew his nose before continuing. "But the thing is, I really HAVE planned out what I want my future to be, and all of it includes Hermione! Harry, I love her more than anything, I completely and truly do. And I know I'm going to marry her one day."  
  
A little taken aback by the conviction in Ron's tone, Harry stared at him for a moment. He hadn't realized how serious their relationship had gotten in less than a year. "Have you proposed to her?" he asked, shaking his head in mild disgust when Ron tried to hand him back the soiled handkerchief. "Just keep it, mate."  
  
Ron pocketed the small piece of cloth. "Not yet. I wanted to wait until after we've graduated, and I've had time to save up some money. I need to be able to provide for her, you know? I don't want any family we start to struggle the way mine always has."  
  
Getting over his initial shock, Harry felt his face break out in a grin. "Wow! Ron, I know she'd say yes! This is going to be so amazing, the two of you married. You had better make me your best man! Your mum will be thrilled-"  
  
Ron laughed, and playfully swiped at the back of Harry's head. "I haven't even asked her yet, you prat!" His expression became troubled. "Do you really think she'll say yes?"  
  
"Mate, I have never seen two people who were more perfect for one another," Harry said seriously, looking directly into Ron's azure eyes. "She loves you. Of course she'll say yes."  
  
"I have to go make things up to her, then," the prefect sighed. The light blue gaze became faraway and dreamy. "Maybe instead of waiting for graduation, I can ask at Christmas, so long as I can save up for a ring in time. I can't stand to wait." He started to stand, smiling. "Thanks for the pep talk, Harry. You're the best friend a bloke could have, and if-no, WHEN I ask and Herm says yes, I wouldn't want anyone other than you to be my best man."  
  
The two friends gave a brief hug, and Harry chuckled as they broke apart. "Listen to you, Ronald Weasley, you sound like such an old sap."  
  
Ron grinned widely, ruffling Harry's already messy hair. "That's what love will do!" he winked. "Now we just have to find YOU a girl, which shouldn't be too difficult, seeing as you're famous and all. Also, according to Ginny, the female population of Hogwarts highly approves of your new style this year, what with the hair and the missing spectacles." Harry hid a blush and grimace, trying to think of a response, when Ron caught sight of the pile of books on Harry's desk. "Bloody hell, mate, what's with the miniature library? Do we have an assignment I somehow don't know about, or did Hermione put you up to something?"  
  
"Oh!" Harry swiftly shut his Potions textbook, trying to casually cover up the notes he had written down. "I was just working on that Potions homework. You know, the Integumentum Fusion essay."  
  
Ron merely waved his hand dismissively, and picked up one of the numerous History books Harry had borrowed from the Hogwarts library a week ago. The black haired teenager had been far too busy with other things to continue his research on the mysterious disappearance of Hirtus Figulus. At Ron's questioning look, Harry explained what little he knew of the story involving Godric Gryffindor's heir, and was pleased when Ron goggled in surprise. At least he wasn't the only one who hadn't known of Figulus.  
  
"I don't remember ever hearing about him in History with Binns," Ron mused. "Not that I ever stayed awake longer than ten minutes in that class to listen to the boring old git. It sounds like the whole thing is awfully scandalous, though, seeing as how he ran off and left the Wizarding World to fend for itself against Grindelwald, which might be why they didn't teach it. I bet Hermione knows something about it."  
  
Nodding in agreement, Harry looked at the texts thoughtfully. "I think it would be a really good idea for the three of us to try and find out what happened to him. Not just because it has to do with our founder, but because this Figulus fellow must have been an extraordinarily powerful wizard if he was a direct descendent of Gryffindor. If he's still alive and we can find him, he might be the key that helps the Light win the war against Voldemort."  
  
*  
  
The following afternoon was delightfully sunny and warm, but instead of sitting out by the lake for lunch with the rest of Gryffindor House, Harry found himself making his way to the all-too-familiar library, yet again. A few lame excuses had gotten his two best friends (who had apparently kissed and made up soon after Ron had left Harry's dorm the previous night) off his back, and he planned to use what little free time he had to find out more about the Broken Heart Elixer.  
  
Re-reading the notes he had copied out of 'Furthering Your Potion Knowledge,' Harry chewed his lip anxiously. "The Broken Heart Elixer, otherwise known as the Coeur Cassé, was developed by the French Potions Master, Alexander Vacillé, during the Wizardry Revolution of 1747," he read aloud for the tenth time that day. "It is said that Vacillé was a victim of unrequited love for the daughter of his foe, and created the Elixer in a desperate attempt to end his suffering. It has only been used by few since, as it can be extremely dangerous to meddle in matters of the heart. Love is a terrible, powerful magick when it is felt for the enemy, and should be approached with great caution."  
  
"It certainly is that," Harry muttered under his breath. "Not that I love the bastard, exactly, but that shouldn't make much of a difference, right? It should still work, all the same."  
  
Trying to appear nonchalant under Madam Pince's watchful eye, Harry rifled through the card-catalogue, looking under 'C' for 'Coeur Cassé' when he found no references for 'Broken Heart Elixer' other than the textbook he had discovered it in last night. He muffled a cry of victory when he finally found what he was looking for.  
  
"Coeur Cassé Potion can be found in 'Breuvages Magiques Pour des Émotions,' in the Restricted Section of the library. You must have written permission from a Hogwarts professor to have access to this book."  
  
Harry snorted at the card. 'Of course, if you don't have permission all you need is either an assigned detention that gives you direct admittance to the Restricted Section, or an old hand-me-down Invisibility Cloak,' he smirked to himself. 'Or both.'  
  
Stuffing the card into his bag when Pince's back was turned, Harry hurriedly left the library, hoping to catch up with his friends on their way to N.E.W.T. Double Charms. He would get the book tonight. With the stubborn Malfoy heir deliberately focusing his attention anywhere but on Harry, the Gryffindor should have a relatively easy time sneaking the text out.  
  
With a little luck, he could be over his bizarre infatuation with the heartless Slytherin before the weekend was over.  
  
*  
  
Steeling himself for the evil glare and sneer he knew were to come, Harry walked up to where Malfoy was seated at a round wooden table, using an eagle-feather quill to rapidly record an Arithmancy chart on a scroll of parchment. Harry cleared his throat, making his presence known, but the blonde only grunted in acknowledgement without looking up, reminding Harry strongly of his life back in Surrey with his guttural Uncle Vernon.  
  
"I finished the Divination Section," he grumbled, trying to ignore the way Malfoy's long pale lashes created such lovely soft shadows on his cool, colorless cheeks, causing a hitch in his chest. "I was going to start on the Restricted Section next, but didn't know if you would want to supervise while I did that." Silently he pleaded for Malfoy to offer the same indifferent response he had been giving whenever Harry directed a question at the Head Boy these days.  
  
His wish was granted when Malfoy's grey eyes only briefly flashed up at him, followed by a sharp, "I'm sure that the Golden Boy of the Wizarding World can restrain himself and manage not to do anything stupid with such complex spell-books. So, no, I won't baby-sit you tonight, Potter. Just do your job and keep out of my way."  
  
Scowling at the other boy's attitude, Harry whirled around without another word and stalked over to the Restricted Section, checking over his shoulder to ensure that Malfoy had indeed stayed behind. He had. A wave of relief swept over him, and he pulled out the card he had stolen earlier that day, his hand trembling slightly in excitement.  
  
"Breuvages Magiques Pour des Émotions," he whispered, running his fingers along the various titles. After covering the first two shelves, Harry began to worry that perhaps someone had already borrowed the book, but his fears were soon laid to rest when he saw a thick maroon tome with the desired words inscribed in silver on the spine. Feeling his heart rate quicken in anticipation, he sank to the floor, the book in his lap. The cover was peeling away and the pages looked as though they had been dipped in tea, but it was thankfully clean, unlike most of the library's collection, and Harry was relieved he didn't have to endure a cloud of old dust wafting out when he let the book fall open.  
  
Emerald eyes widened in disbelief when Harry realized the page he had randomly turned to was the same exact one he was searching for. "Merlin, what are the odds of that?" he muttered, looking at the words 'Coeur Cassé' and hoping this was a sign from some deity that he was doing the right thing. Looking at the page in dismay, he realized that the entire book was written in French, which he knew little of.  
  
However, the list of ingredients was clear enough, as most magical terms were the same in every language, and he relaxed slightly. Slowly reading them through, Harry noted immediately that he would have to raid Snape's private supplies if he were to go through with his plan. Most of the components he already had stored up in his room, courtesy of the kit Hermione had given him that summer, but the potion also called for hair from a veela, which was very difficult to come by unless one looked on the dark market.  
  
A small noise caused Harry to jerk his head up, his panicked mind trying to think up what to say if Malfoy caught him neglecting his assigned punishment, but it was only the Grey Lady, Ravenclaw's resident ghost, who often wandered through the stacks at night. He exchanged a small wave with the transparent woman before she disappeared to another aisle.  
  
Turning back to the book, Harry tried his best to translate the passage on the potion. Hermione had forced him to learn the basics of French when he had to compete against Fleur Delacour from Beauxbatons Academy in the Tri- wizard Tournament his fourth year, but he was disappointed to learn that he had forgotten most of it, and could only stumble his way through very little of the content. Praying that his French-English dictionary was still in his trunk somewhere, Harry slipped the maroon book into his robes.  
  
Rapidly he began to sort through the bookshelves in front of him, putting everything in alphabetical order. He now only had three and a half weeks left to finish organizing the library's enormous collection, which would be nearly impossible to accomplish. Harry had wasted a whole week trying to find the anti-love spell, and he desperately didn't want Malfoy to have cause to extend his detention-sentence any longer than it already had been.  
  
He began to plot out in his head a plan of action for what to do, now that he had found the potion he needed. He decided he didn't want to waste any more time, and that he should sneak out with his Invisibility Cloak to Snape's supply room tonight for the veela hair. It was a Friday night, and Harry thought it was likely that the Potions professor wouldn't be in his office over the weekend. He could brew the Elixer in his dorm tomorrow night after his detention, seeing as he didn't have any roommates this year that could possibly interrupt him.  
  
Harry struggled to disregard the bit of uneasiness that had settled in his stomach. He couldn't wimp out now that he was so close to achieving his goal. In about twenty-four hours, all of this nonsense would be over, and he could once again focus on things that were important. 'You HAVE to do this, Potter, there's no other way,' he convinced himself, taking a deep breath. 'How can you expect to concentrate on fighting Voldemort and helping the Order if you're obsessing over one of the Light's enemies all the time? It can't go on, it's too dangerous to feel this way about Draco Malfoy.'  
  
Pausing in his work, he looked down at his hands. Harry was slightly irritated and appalled to notice how dry the constant handling of old grimy books had made his hands, a nice compliment to the calluses the strenuous new Quidditch season was already giving him. His rough palms looked as though they had been lightly dipped in sawdust, and he couldn't help but wonder at how Malfoy's own Seeker hands had felt so soft and smooth on his chin during their argument in the library a week ago, like silk. If they felt that wonderful just gripping his face, he could only imagine how they would feel gripping his..  
  
Sternly breaking out of his reverie with a self-disgusted shake of his head, Harry glanced down at his watch, groaning when he saw he still had over an hour left until he could escape to his dormitory. Returning to sorting the shelf in front of him, Harry took comfort in the weight that 'Breuvages Magiques Pour des Émotions' created in his pocket, reassuring him that peace of mind wasn't too long off.  
  
*  
  
After another adventure of stumbling through the darkened rows of books, Harry hurried back to Gryffindor Tower, only stopping to quickly use the lavatory and say hello to the few members of his house that were still up before he donned his father's old cloak. While he was digging around in his trunk for the liquid-like material, Harry was relieved to see that his French dictionary was hidden at the bottom, and he added that, along with the stolen library book, to the pile of volumes currently covering his desk.  
  
He had a close encounter with Hermione's mangy-furred cat, Crookshanks, in the Common Room, but eventually Harry was able to get back out of the portrait hole, wincing and looking over his shoulder at the kids playing Exploding Snap when the door creaked loudly. Fortunately the Gryffindors were caught up in their card game, and none of them paid any heed to the doorway opening seemingly on its own.  
  
Harry had always been fond of walking around the castle at night, and tonight was no exception. The twisting halls, winding stairs, and secret passageways were charming to the boy, and he found himself wistfully wondering about what adventures his father and Sirius had during their nights at the school with the other Marauders. Maybe he could ask Lupin to tell him some of their tales the next time he saw the werewolf.  
  
He was careful to avoid any paths that Filch or Mrs. Norris might be wandering, and used his old gimmick of pretending to be the Bloody Baron when he bumped into Hogwarts' troublemaking poltergeist, Peeves, in the dungeon corridor.  
  
Slowly and quietly, Harry snuck into the Potions classroom. His jaw dropped in alarm when he noticed that Snape's office door was propped open, and there was the faint flickering glow of candlelight visible from within. Cautiously moving closer, he peered in the entrance.  
  
There sat Professor Snape, in all his greasy glory, a scowl marring his already unpleasant face as he covered some poor student's essay with heavy red markings.  
  
"Damn fool," the frowning wizard growled to himself. "To think a seventh year can't even figure out what nightshade is for." After a minute or so, Snape had finished with that assignment, and he immediately picked up another from a stack on his desk and began to read it through, snorting every now and then, in repugnance at his pupil's mistakes.  
  
Harry bit his lower lip to prevent an annoyed groan from getting loose. Didn't the slimy arse have anything better to do than grade papers this late on a Friday night? 'Then again,' he reconsidered thoughtfully, 'this is Snape we're talking about here. It's not like he'd be the sort to have a date or actual friends or something.'  
  
Deciding to attempt waiting it out rather than go back to his dorm straight away empty handed, Harry entered the small office as silently as he could and sat in a corner on the cold stone floor. He jumped slightly when Snape suddenly let out a sharp bark of laughter.  
  
"Potter!" he spat out with loathing, and Harry froze, certain that Snape could see him through the Invisibility Cloak, as he had often suspected in the past. However, the man's beady black eyes were still trained on a sheet of parchment on the desk. Aghast, Harry came to the realization that the paper his professor was currently scribbling all over was his own Integumentum Fusion essay.  
  
"Not bad, actually, Potter," Snape smirked nastily, completely unaware the Harry was eight feet away and listening keenly to every word spoken. "If you weren't such a smug, self-righteous brat and I didn't utterly despise you, I would have given you high marks for this one."  
  
Harry clenched his jaw in fury, half tempted to forget about the veela hair and throw off the cloak, just to see Snape's shocked expression at being caught red-handed in his unfair grading methods. 'That hideous bastard! I knew he was docking my scores for personal reasons!' he fumed, hating the man with ever fiber of his being.  
  
What felt like hours passed, though it was probably closer to twenty minutes, and the sallow-skinned wizard finally marked the last of the essays, blowing out the candles before he left for bed, unknowingly locking his least favorite student in his private office.  
  
Not wasting any time, Harry instantaneously was on his feet and opening the storage cupboard with a wave of his wand and a soft 'Alohamora!' The Potions Master may have been one of the most horrific individuals Harry had ever met, but the teenager couldn't help but be appreciative of the man's organizational skills, especially after spending so many tedious hours systematizing bookshelves in detention. Finding the veela hair proved to be no trouble at all, and Harry carefully slipped a few long golden strands into a small pouch he had brought along with him.  
  
Ensuring that everything looked exactly as it should, Harry quickly made his way out of the Potions dungeon, taking care to lock up before he went. He couldn't help but simper when he become conscious of the fact that, after numerous accusations from the professor, Harry had for once legitimately stolen from Snape's personal storage. He hated to think of what his professor would do if he ever found out.  
  
*  
  
Double checking to make sure that he had everything he needed, Harry set up his pewter cauldron on the floor, under the window, 'Breuvages Magiques Pour des Émotions' resting on his lap. Though the day had seemed to stretch out forever, Saturday night had finally arrived and, with a little apprehension bubbling in his belly, Harry was now prepared to brew the Elixer.  
  
He had spent much of the afternoon holed up in his bedroom, translating the French text into English. It had proved to be more difficult than he had originally thought, but at last he felt that he had a good enough rendition to work from. He had been somewhat disconcerted when the instructions recommended using a personal hair or artifact of the foe that the caster was trying to fall out of love with in order to guarantee the potion's accuracy, but he had easily disregarded that minor dilemma as unnecessary in his case. He had only one enemy that he was presently in lo- .. er, infatuated with, so there was no need to make sure the potion targeted Malfoy specifically.  
  
Little by little, he began to add the components together in the heated water, which he had boiled in the cauldron with the small, portable blue- flame spell that Hermione had often used during their first year at Hogwarts. Stirring the veela hair and arbutus petals in with the tip of his wand precisely six times, Harry sincerely prayed that the potion was supposed to be a brilliant shade of scarlet, as the book offered no illustrations to compare it to.  
  
Removing the cauldron from the fire, he impatiently let it sit for twelve minutes, chewing on his thumbnail nervously while he waited. The raven- haired boy was quite surprised at how effortlessly he had been able to produce the potion. He supposed that he shouldn't have been, as he had managed to meet even Snape's high standards of scoring on his O.W.L. Potions exam fifth year, but this was the first time Harry had truly been able to put into practice what he had learned in the dungeons all these years. Typically for an out-of-class project, such as with the Polyjuice Potion in second year, Hermione would be the one out of the trio who would brew whatever potion was required.  
  
Smiling to himself for having accomplished the Coeur Cassé Elixer on his own, Harry poured the concoction into a glass phial, swirling it around so that it the dim light reflected off of the crimson liquid. Staring at it for a moment pensively, the Gryffindor gently lifted the delicate container to his lips, stopping to inhale the almost floral scent coming from it.  
  
'This is it,' Harry thought, his face flushed with fervor. He decisively flouted the voice in his heart that claimed he was making a terrible mistake. Following that voice's suggestions had never helped Harry in the past; Look at where it had led him with Sirius and Cedric Diggory.  
  
Just a tilt of his wrist and a quick swallow, and Harry would never have to worry about pining over Draco Malfoy again. He felt almost feverish in his desire to cure himself of whatever this disease was that made him constantly obsess over his archrival. The potion was the only way for his feelings for the Slytherin to return back to the way they were supposed to be.  
  
Harry gave the smallest of nods. Yes, he was decided. The phial in his hand tipped, and he felt the still-warm liquid pour smooth as silk down his throat. It had an agreeable taste, almost like sweet honeydew tea, and he licked his lips, trying to savor the flavor.  
  
He sat, slightly disappointed at the anti-climatic results when nothing happened right away. Five minutes later, he hesitantly began to clean up his work station, putting the advanced Potions kit bottles back where they belonged on the shelf above his desk. He stuffed the stolen library book out of sight, in case Ron or one of his other friends decided to visit again tonight. That would certainly lead to an uncomfortable conversation indeed.  
  
It wasn't until Harry was getting changed for bed and had unzipped his trousers that he felt a strange shiver go through his body. He paused in the middle of undressing, but then shrugged, assuming it was just a typical chill from living in the tower. Slipping on his blue flannel pajama bottoms over his boxers, he began to unbutton his shirt when it happened again.  
  
A wave of dizziness and nausea hit, and Harry leaned his hand against the wall for balance as the room began to spin. From his experiences of fainting around the Dementors years ago, Harry vaguely recalled that he was supposed to put his head between his knees to get rid of the feeling of vertigo. Crouching on the floor, he tried to get control of his breathing, which had developed into ragged gasping. Even with his emerald eyes squeezed shut, the world still felt as though it were twisting around, and the skin all over his body suddenly broke out into a cold sweat. Clenching his fists together in agony, Harry struggled in vain to maintain consciousness.  
  
'Well, this is certainly more dramatic,' he thought weakly, before the darkness took over completely and his petite frame slumped lifelessly on the floor.  
  
~*~  
  
A/N: Thank you, reviewers!!! Again, I apologize for the delay of this chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it!!  
  
Bluebutterfly9: Yes, Harry isn't always the wisest when it comes to dealing with Malfoy. This 'magical fix' is certainly going to grow to be a problem, and I hope that you have fun and are surprised with the many twists that evolve from it. And I completely agree that Draco's motivation regarding Harry is difficult to pinpoint (as is my intention), but all will be revealed in due time! ;-)  
  
Hoopla: Hey! Your enthusiasm for this story is always so encouraging, and I really want to thank you for that! I was about 5 pages into Chapter 5 when I got your second review urging me to update, and it helped me get through a bad case of writer's block, so thank you for that as well! I'm thrilled you have it bookmarked, and hope that you enjoy where this story is going. It's going to be extremely long, I think, because I'm already on Chapter 5, but I'm still only on the second page of my outline (which is over 12 pages long). Looks like I have a lot of writing ahead of me! I hope you continue to read it!  
  
Lully: This particular fic will be strictly from Harry's POV. I wanted to keep it as similar to canon as I could, and those are always all Harry. Plus, it keeps things more suspenseful (I think) if you don't know what Draco's intentions and feelings regarding Harry are. More will be said about Nott in future chapters, and a lot of Slytherins will be having cameos soon, as well, though all from Harry's perspective. That's all the spoilers I'm willing to offer for now!  
  
Evil Story Penguins: Sorry it took so long to update! I'm glad you are enjoying the story, though, and hope you liked this newest chapter!  
  
Marksy: Thank you! This plot is completely planned out, including a 12 page outline, and about 11 pages of various types of notes, etc. I literally had to carefully consider everything beforehand, because there are going to be a number of twists up ahead that I had to prepare for. This story is going to be a whopper when it's finished! Hope you continue to enjoy it!  
  
Krazchic: I personally don't think Harry has any CLUE what he's doing, the little idiot. No snogging in this chapter, sorry!!! In fact, Draco barely is in it at all, but don't worry! I guarantee major kissy-kissy scenes in the future, but the boys need to work up to that first. ;-)  
  
Hpgryffin: Here's another chapter, hope you like it! I hadn't realized before that you were the author of Artificial Passion. I absolutely adore that fic, and now that I've updated, it's your turn next! I'm dying to find out what happens!  
  
Artemis Astralstar: Glad you liked the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this one as well. You're gut feeling is right, something is about to go VERY wrong with the potion. Stupid Harry. *Joins in the muttering of various tortures to use on the silly Potter.*  
  
Liggles and the egg: I'm so thrilled that you're not only reading my story but liking it as well! Thank you for reviewing! Yeah, Draco is definitely gay by choice, Harry or no Harry. There was no possible way I could NOT have made this fic novel-length. I wanted to follow canon as closely as slash can, and I also wanted to be sure to cover all of Harry's seventh year, not just his relationship with Draco. So there will be a lot happening with the war, and Quidditch and NEWTS, etc. Harry does have a life that doesn't include Malfoy, despite his current obsession with the boy. Harry has sort of admitted his feelings for Draco in the sense that he acknowledges them enough to want them gone, LOL. But no worries, his mental anguish isn't about to end any time soon, the poor guy. 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Anything from canon belongs to JKR.

A/N: Please don't hate me! I'm an evil, evil, BAD person. I know this. Please accept my apologies for putting this story off for HALF A YEAR. Now that I've graduated, finding time to write is much easier, so that shouldn't happen again. I've just got myself a LiveJournal, and will be possibly starting a yahoo group-- the addresses will be on my profile. I'll be updating regularly on there the status of All's Fair so that you guys will know if I get stuck in a rut and need help getting out!

Chapter 7 is already started, and I hope to have it up before September so long as my muse doesn't leave me again!

Comments for reviewers of Chapter 5 are at the bottom of the page!

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_Chapter Six_

Regaining consciousness after blacking out always felt very strange to Harry.

The first time it had happened, he had been just nine years old. Dudley had decided one morning that it would be funny to sneak into his sleeping cousin's cupboard and awaken Harry by jumping on top of him. The sudden weight of the rather large Dudley startled Harry so much that he fell out of his bed, banging his head on the floor in the process. At first nothing seemed wrong, and Harry had gone to the kitchen to help cook breakfast, feeling a little nauseous. The next thing he knew he was waking up on the ground, with Aunt Petunia screaming for Uncle Vernon and shoving a glass of orange juice down his throat. He had been so confused, as it was one of the only times he remembered his aunt ever showing any type of concern for her freakish nephew, and he just kept repeating to her that he was fine and must have somehow fallen asleep while standing.

It was a similar experience now, as Harry struggled to open his eyes. He came to the realization that he was lying on the cold, stone floor, the memory of what had taken place beforehand flooding fuzzily back to him, as if it had all been part of a dream. When his heavy lids finally lifted, he was terrified to see a pair of enormous green eyes staring into his own.

He quickly sat up, hand automatically reaching to pull out his wand from his pocket, when his brain registered that the intruder was none other than Dobby the house-elf.

"At last Harry Potter is awake!" Dobby shrieked in his squeaky voice, his distressed face brightening. "Dobby was so worried!"

"Shush, Dobby," Harry mumbled, rubbing his temples to prevent an oncoming headache. His skin was flushed and hot, almost tingly, and he felt as though he had had too much of Hagrid's mead last night.

Taking a step back to give the Gryffindor room, Dobby slapped a hand over his mouth. Harry started to get up and move over to his bed, but proved to be too unsteady to do it on his own. Dobby raced over to his side once more to assist.

"What time is it, anyway?" It was clearly morning, and the sun was shining bright and cheerful through the window. A little _TOO_ bright for Harry's tastes at the moment.

"It's almost time for Dobby to go back to the kitchens with the other house-elves to make lunch, sir," Dobby squeaked in a much softer tone, eyes still wide with concern. "Dobby was just making the beds in Gryffindor Tower, sir, when he found Harry Potter and couldn't wake him up. Dobby was just about to get help."

Blinking in surprise at how much of the day he had already missed, the raven-haired boy felt a pang of unease. Was the potion _SUPPOSED_ to have that sort of an effect? He was positive that he had followed the instructions exactly as the book said. Slowly he realized that Dobby was still talking, asking if Harry was alright and, upon no reply, offering to get Professor Dumbledore.

"No!" he cried, grabbing hold of one of the house-elf's frail arms to prevent him from vanishing. Harry didn't even want to think of how he would try to explain all of this to the headmaster. "No," he repeated more calmly, seeing the startled look on Dobby's face. "I'm fine, please don't worry Professor Dumbledore with this, Dobby. I was just a little over exhausted, but I'm perfectly alright now. Honest."

Dobby still looked a little doubtful, but he nodded agreeably, and Harry hid a sigh of relief. He smiled down at his small companion, releasing his grip. "Thanks for worrying about me, though, you're a real mate," he said, and Dobby blushed, his large eyes watery with pride, positively tickled at the compliment. "I'm sorry I haven't stopped by to see you yet this term," Harry added with genuine regret. "I'll have more time to visit once this month is up and I'm finished serving my detentions with Draco."

Saying his rival's name aloud immediately brought to mind silken blonde hair, steely grey eyes, and a determined pink mouth. Harry felt something within him flutter with pure desire and longing, quickly followed by fear and horror at the awareness that the mere thought of Malfoy still turned him inside out. The potion hadn't worked!! How could this possibly be?! His heart began to pound in panic, and all the color in his cheeks faded.

Apparently Dobby was still reveling in being deemed a friend of The Boy Who Lived, so he didn't take notice of the sudden pale hue his hero sported. "Dobby looks forward to that, sir!"

Suddenly desperate to be alone to figure out his feelings and what had gone wrong with the Broken Heart Elixer, Harry tried to find an excuse to get rid of the house-elf. "Well, anyway, I'm feeling much better now, so if you need to go and make up the lunch-"

Impossibly, Dobby's eyes widened even more. "Dobby almost forgot! He still has to finish the rest of the Gryffindor rooms! None of the other house-elves will come up here. Still afraid that they will find clothes," he said sadly, and Harry dimly wondered if Hermione still believed she was tricking the house-elves into freedom by leaving articles of clothing hidden in her Head Girl dormitory.

"Goodbye, Harry Potter, sir! If ever there's anything Dobby can do for Harry Potter...."

"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said, forcing a weak grin on his tired face, a facade that disappeared just as soon as the house-elf did. He lay back on his bed, and shakily covered his face with his hands. Merlin, what was he going to do now? He despised how helpless he felt, and frustrated tears misted his vision.

'_Snape was right all along; I'm pathetic at Potions_,' he snorted silently, and he felt a flash of anger as he recalled how he had seen his professor giving him an unfair grade. Maybe Harry wasn't really as terrible in the course as he had always thought, but he should have known he would be unable to brew something as complex as the Coeur Cassé without any assistance. Bloody hell, he hadn't even been able to read the text without looking almost every word up in his dictionary! What was even more shocking was that he was surprised at all.

Unless....

'_Maybe it just needs some time before it begins to have any real affect_,' Harry thought hopefully, though a large portion of him doubted it.

Taking a deep breath, he somehow managed to roll out of bed, ignoring his still throbbing headache. As much as he just wanted to drift back to sleep, he knew his friends would be frantic if he skipped both breakfast and lunch, and an explanation to Hermione would be just about as painful as one to Dumbledore.

'_Why couldn't the damn Elixer have just done what it was supposed to do? How am I ever going to be able to face Malfoy all year if I can't get rid of this stupid obsession?_'

Dragging his feet to the showers, Harry took some comfort in the relief the cool stream of water brought to his feverish skin.

Something told him it was going to be a long day.

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That afternoon saw Harry heading off to the Quidditch pitch with the rest of the Gryffindor team, in an attempt to get in some strenuous practice for their first match of the season, which was against Hufflepuff in two weeks. The opposing team was made up mostly of new players this year, but Harry wasn't about to take any chances.

To their captain's chagrin, none of the young Quidditch players on his own team seemed able to give it their all at the 5AM sessions he had scheduled, and so they had (rather reluctantly) agreed that, if Harry limited the early mornings to three times a week instead of four, they would give up free time on the weekends to make up for the loss.

After requesting their presence on the pitch in an hour, Harry had left his teammates at the start of lunch (ignoring the complaints and half-heartedly thrown muffin that bounced harmlessly off his shoulder) and joined Ron and Hermione, who sat at a secluded section of the Gryffindor table. The trio had spoken in hushed voices as Ron and a slightly distracted Harry filled Hermione in on what they had learned about Hirtus Figulus, the Gryffindor Heir.

Hermione had, unsurprisingly, heard of him before, though her knowledge of the mysterious wizard was as limited as Harry's own. Once Harry had broken the news to Ron about the impromptu practice, Hermione agreed to meet them in the Gryffindor Common Room when the two boys were finished. Hermione had tried to suggest the library as a more appropriate location, but Harry firmly insisted that he already spent more time holed up there than he preferred.

Harry grinned slightly in anticipation as he went over to the broomshed to retrieve the trunk of Quidditch equipment. One of his favorite memories of his time at Hogwarts, that he knew would remain with him post-graduation, were the numerous hours of research he and his best friends would conduct prior to some insane adventure.

He was really looking forward to spending time with just the two of them, as they used to when they were younger. Over the past couple of years there was always someone else joining their group, whether it be Ginny, Susan, Neville, and so on. As appreciative as Harry was of all of his friends in the Wizarding World, he couldn't imagine being closer to or loving anyone more than Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger.

'_Even if they do tend to drive me nutters sometimes with all their bickering_,' he thought with a fond smile.

Levitating the trunk with a swift '_Wingardium Leviosa_,' Harry followed behind it with his wand raised, the heavy mahogany box floating to the field as if it weighed no more than a feather.

"Hey, we didn't come out here to stand on the ground chatting! Get up in the air, you lazy sods!" Harry barked when he reached his immobile players, and felt his stern mask crack into laughter at the sight of their over-dramatic glares.

"It's Sunday, Harry," Euan Abercrombie replied, his eyebrows raised as if in disbelief. "What kind of sick bastard schedules practice on a Sunday?"

Harry merely grinned brightly and flipped two fingers at him. "The same kind who has the authority to make that practice long and painful," he retorted sweetly, and that was all the six grumpy Gryffindors needed to hear before they kicked off hard from the ground.

Hiding a smirk, Harry opened the trunk and released the bludgers, before tossing the red quaffle to Ginny, who was flying low, close to where he stood.

"We're going to start with moving passes!" he called, mounting his trusty Firebolt. Just as he was about to kick off, however, he was distracted by Ron shouting to someone behind him.

"Oi! No dirty Slytherins should be on the pitch while we're practicing! Unless you're trying to steal our moves like you did last year, Malfoy!"

Harry felt his stomach drop, and privately prayed the elixir would start working in the five seconds it took him to turn around and face his enemy.

It didn't.

Malfoy stood with the rest of the Slytherin team, appearing almost angelic dressed in his green Quidditch robes, the autumn sun reflecting off his fair hair and skin, making him radiant with golden light. The ethereal image was ruined by the sinister sneer that curled his sensual lips, and even more so when he opened said lips to respond to Ron's taunts.

"Fuck off, Weasley. The only one destitute enough to have to steal anything around here is you," he fired back, and rested his chilly grey gaze on Ginny, who still hovered nearby. "I'd suggest prostituting your sister to raise some Galleons, but with those hideous freckles and that vile red hair I doubt she could attract _one_ Knut, much less the two that are attached to a wizard."

Giving a guttural growl, a purple-faced Ron shot through the sky towards Malfoy to defend his baby sister.

"No, Ron!" Without stopping to consider what he was doing, Harry automatically took off and effectively blocked Ron's path, forcing the ginger-haired boy to make an abrupt stop in his attack, lest he crash into his best friend in mid-air.

"Watch it, Harry!" Ron's cerulean eyes widened in shock at the near collision, and then narrowed in fury as he looked past the other Gryffindor and saw Malfoy's smug expression. He tried to swerve around Harry, but again found his way obstructed by his Quidditch captain. "Bloody hell, what do you think you're doing, Harry!? Get out of the way so I can pound the ugly plum!"

Blinking, Harry slowly began to ask himself the same question. What WAS he doing protecting Malfoy? Glancing around self-consciously, Harry stiffened as he saw that everyone, Gryffindors and Slytherins alike, had stunned stares focused on him.

His brain working fast for an explanation, Harry turned to face an irate Ron. "Look, just calm down for a second, Ron! Fighting the Head Boy will only land you in detention, at best. And I'm sure Malfoy would be enough of an arse to find a way of preventing you from playing in our match against Hufflepuff," he said reasonably, regaining confidence with each word. "The last thing we need is for you to wind up suspended from the team or something so that we have to forfeit our first game of the season, so don't be stupid!"

The rest of the Gryffindor team hesitantly nodded in grim agreement, and Harry felt some of the tension drain from his neck and shoulders.

The Slytherins didn't look quite as easily convinced, and Harry noted apprehensively that their eyes remained fixed intently on him. Being masters of manipulation themselves, they could tell Harry was lying, but clearly couldn't figure out why else the Boy-Who-Lived would defend their leader. Unwillingly, his own gaze focused on Malfoy. Harry was startled to see that a small, eerie smile had creeped onto Draco's pointed face. An ominous shudder went through him at the sight of it.

"Harry's right, Ron," Ginny spoke up, addressing her brother while glowering darkly at Malfoy. "He's not worth getting into trouble over. Besides," she continued with an indignant flip of her recently affronted hair, "I can stand up for myself, thanks."

Ron sputtered for a moment, his face so discolored that Harry worried his friend's rage had caused him to forget how to breathe. "Fine! Next time I'll just let him bully you, then!" Ron finally spat out, glaring furiously at the best friend and sister who had betrayed him to defend their long-time enemy. Without another word, the Gryffindor Keeper swung his broom around and flew off towards the changing rooms.

"I think your pet weasel is upset with you, Potter," Malfoy said, a gleeful expression on his face.

"Shit," Harry muttered to himself, ignoring the sniggers from Malfoy and the Slytherins. He was half tempted to go after Ron, but knew from years of experience that it was better to let the fiery redhead cool off for a while first. Catching Ginny's eye, he saw she was thinking along the same lines and they exchanged shamefaced smiles before he focused his attention on the others still on the field.

"Okay, guys, we still have a match to get ready for," Harry said loudly to the rest of his team, who were hovering close by, looking awkward. "I'll cover Ron's post as Keeper when the rest of you are working on formation. Start with four laps around the pitch." In a rare moment of compliance, the five crimson-clad players followed Harry's instruction without any objections, not wanting to push their captain's patience when he was already upset.

Struggling to keep his expression blank and his breathing normal, Harry deliberately landed directly in front of Malfoy, stubbornly trying to stare the taller boy down despite his disadvantaged height.

"Ron's right, you know; You lot shouldn't be here. Gryffindor's using the field now, so you can just slither back to your dungeons." Wincing inwardly, Harry silently berated himself for coming up with such lame banter, but it was difficult to think of anything better with Malfoy standing so close by. A light breeze had tousled the typically immaculate hair, playing with the pale strands to make them dance across Draco's forehead. Harry felt sick at the realization that he was jealous of the wind. '_I hate him, I hate him, I hate him...._,' he privately reminded himself.

Still looking pleased at having helped to start an argument, Malfoy merely rolled his eyes at Harry and carelessly shook the hair off his face. "Oh, _so _clever," he ridiculed. "We'll _SLITHER_ there, because we're SLYTHERINS. My, such impressive wit, Potter. Do you take Remedial Repartee lessons in addition to Remedial Potions?" The other Slytherins snickered, and Malfoy smirked, clearly enjoying being the center of attention. "And you know as well as I do that there aren't any booked practices on Sundays, Potter," Malfoy continued. "So you can either share the pitch nicely, or Madam Hooch will hear about this and you won't be able to practice all week."

Harry's jaw clenched. The chant was coming more effortlessly now. '_Hate him, hate him...._'

"Fine," the raven-haired Seeker said through gritted teeth. "Gryffindor will use the far end of the field and you lot can have this half. Just make sure to stay out of our way." Eager to get away before his temper got the better of him and landed him in further trouble with the Head Boy, Harry turned to go, mumbling bitterly, "See you tonight in detention."

Before he could leave the ground to join his team, however, he heard Malfoy call him back. Pivoting to see what the other wizard wanted _now_, Harry crossed his arms irritably. Malfoy quickly advanced on him with a gleam in his silver eyes that sent waves of alarm down Harry's spine. Instinctively Harry moved to put more space between them, but Malfoy's Seeker hand easily caught hold of his wrist to prevent the retreat.

Harry froze in shock at the unexpected contact.

Staring wide-eyed at the contrast of alabaster skin against his own fading tan, Harry was only dimly aware of their Slytherin audience as Malfoy stepped close to speak directly in his ear. "I wasn't finished with you yet," he hissed. "You think it's as simple as walking away from me?"

Too busy trying to remember how to breathe, Harry couldn't answer. When at last he regained control over his lungs, he inhaled deeply, involuntarily discovering that his rival smelt sharply of green tea and mint. He felt dizzy. Some part of his confused brain vaguely registered that Malfoy was still talking, but Harry couldn't understand a word. He seemed to have gone temporarily deaf at the sensation of warm breath and lips brushing next to his ear almost casually,

Finally, _FINALLY!_, the taller boy pulled away slightly to look expectantly at Harry through narrowed eyes, apparently waiting for a reply. He was still too close and, feeling a little bit as if he was under water, Harry was all too conscious of the fact that Malfoy's grip on his arm hadn't relented.

"What was that?" he managed to choke out, disgusted with himself for how weak he sounded.

Malfoy's lip curled in mild amusement. "I do believe you're trembling, Potter." He lifted Harry's slim wrist for closer inspection, clasping it with both of his own white hands, thumbs rubbing small circles against the delicate skin. "I can feel how fast your pulse is beating," he murmered, leaning in so that his probing eyes were inches away from Harry's. "Is that all for me?"

'_I'm going to die_,' Harry thought frantically, irrationally. '_It doesn't matter if he kills me for it later, because if I don't kiss him right now, I'll only die sooner._'

"Oi, D-Draco! You b-b-back away from P-Potter now!"

And suddenly the trance was broken. As Malfoy turned his flaxen head to confront the owner of the stuttering baritone, releasing the grip on his prey, awareness forced the mist from Harry's mind with a jolt, causing him to stumble back a step. With the regained control over the traitorous thoughts, the Gryffindor became fully conscious of the rest of the Slytherin Quidditch team. They didn't look happy.

It was Crabbe who had interrupted the two rivals and now stood quaking under Malfoy's astonished gaze. The five other housemates smartly remained silent, a healthy distance away from the Head Boy, but Harry was taken aback that the hostile looks on their faces were aimed at their captain rather than at The-Boy-Who-Lived. Apparently they were Not Amused with Malfoy's seductive performance.

Unfortunately for Crabbe, Malfoy's shock was rapidly being swapped for hostility as well.

Turning away from Harry completely, Malfoy stalked aggressively toward his bulking friend, seeming oblivious to the fact that the other boy was easily twice as large as the svelte blonde.

"_What_ did you say?" asked Malfoy dangerously.

Crabbe continued to shake, but stealing a nervous glance at goggling Harry strengthened his resolve. "I.... I said to leave H-Harry alone," he repeated, cringing.

Blinking, Harry pinched his arm. No—he was definitely awake. He carefully moved to have a better view of the surreal scene taking place in front of him.

"_HARRY?!_ Since when is that dirty half-blood _Harry?_" Malfoy spluttered, his typically bloodless cheeks tinged pink with rage. Disregarding a painful twinge, Harry dazedly wondered how appalled Malfoy would be if he knew just how much he resembled Ron when he was angry.

"Don't call him names!" Crabbe's shout was at total contrast with his terrified expression.

Malfoy was doing an admirable impression of an enraged goldfish. "Are you fucking _kidding_ me?" he snarled. "You bloody traitor!" His fist bunched up in preparation to strike his formerly loyal sidekick, but by now Goyle had joined in, putting himself inbetween them.

"Stop fighting," Goyle grunted. "You're friends, so you shouldn't fight."

Simple as the words were, they surprisingly seemed to be what Malfoy needed in order to recollect himself, though his posture remained tense. This appeared to be good enough for Goyle, however. The brunette placed a beefy hand on Malfoy's shoulder.

"That's better, Draco," he said in his raspy voice. Malfoy had taken a couple of deep breaths and relaxed slightly when Goyle opened his mouth again. "Now apologize to Harry for being mean and promise not to touch him anymore."

Green and grey eyes stared at him.

Harry stood fixed in place just long enough to see Malfoy's fist fly into Goyle's pudgy face. Hopping on his Firebolt, he hastily took advantage of the violent distraction to escape to the castle unnoticed. He didn't know what was going on with the Slytherins, but he knew he didn't want to be around when the two Beaters regained their sanity.

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It was nearly dinnertime, and Hogwarts' corridors were steadily getting busier as students from all four houses began to trickle towards the Great Hall.

Weaving his way around the hungry crowds, Harry ignored his own grumbling stomach and instead slowly walked the passages that led to Gryffindor Tower, looking down to avoid eye-contact with anyone. Filch must have had more time on his hands since Fred and George Weasley had left over a year ago—Harry didn't think he had ever seen the school's stone floors so clean.

After fleeing from the Quidditch field that afternoon, the befuddled teenager had spent the following hours hiding out in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, trying to sort out his confused thoughts while simultaneously avoiding the teammates he had left stranded without a captain at practice. Unfortunately he hadn't gotten much accomplished, as Myrtle had decided to lay her own woes on him. The miserable ghost had recently had an unpleasant encounter with Peeves, and Harry had wasted over an hour trying to convince her that being spotty gave character.

Lost once more in his ponderings, Harry absently greeted the Fat Lady with the password. It just didn't make sense. '_Why didn't the potion work?_' he asked himself for the hundredth time, and was about to head up the stairs to his dorm when someone called his name from across the Common Room.

Hermione and Ron were sitting on opposite ends of one of the plush couches nearest to the fireplace, surrounded by tons of books. Some lay open on the extra space of cushion between the couple, while others were stacked into careful piles on the floor. Harry reluctantly abandoned his thoughts once more to join the two Prefects, sitting across from them in a lone armchair. He really hoped Hermione wasn't going to try to rope him into studying for the N.E.W.T.S already. He had enough on his plate to deal with for the moment.

"Where have you been all day?" asked Hermione, frowning. A concerned crease appeared between her brows.

Noticing that Ron hadn't bothered to look up from the thick tome in his lap, Harry groaned inwardly. He had forgotten that his best friend was angry with him.

'_Because of Malfoy_,' he thought irritably. '_Everything always goes back to that git_.'

"Andrew Kirke came by earlier looking for you. He seemed rather annoyed that you left practice without telling anyone, but luckily Ginny took it upon herself to cover for you so that you wouldn't get into trouble with Madam Hooch," the bushy-haired girl continued, a disapproving glint in her eye.

Releasing a weary sigh, Harry slumped low in his seat. Watching the yellow flames flicker in the fireplace, he took his time in responding to his friend.

"I'm sure they were secretly thrilled I wasn't there to torture them," he said finally, sneaking a glance at Ron to see if the redhead would crack a smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. To his disappointment Ron maintained a stoic air, but Harry was familiar enough with the other boy to know he was at least listening.

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "That's not funny _OR_ fair, Harry. Leading the team is _YOUR_ responsibility-"She began scolding, but something in Harry's expression must have caught her off-guard. Leaning forward, Hermione observed him intently. "Are you okay, Harry?" she said with care. "Andrew said you spoke with Malfoy before running off, and to be quite honest you look rather frazzled."

Smiling weakly, Harry waved a dismissive hand. "Just the usual rubbish Malfoy dishes out," he lied. Desperate to change the subject from the bane of his existence, Harry searched his head frantically for what to say before he recalled something. "Hey," he sat up thoughtfully. "You want to hear something really strange?"

Harry proceeded to tell the young witch (and her eavesdropping boyfriend) an edited version of what had happened with Crabbe and Goyle on the pitch.

"That IS strange," Hermione mused dryly when he was done. "I hadn't realized that those two could even speak in complete sentences."

They both jumped when Ron abruptly slammed his book shut. Still keeping his azure eyes averted from Harry, he reached for one of the texts stacked on the floor, muttering under his breath as he did so. Harry thought he heard something like, "Betraying your best friend is popular today."

Throwing Ron a dirty look, Harry childishly decided that two could play the ignoring game. Deliberately leaning towards Hermione so that it would be clear Ron wasn't included in the conversation, he picked up one of the books, too. Surprised, he recognized it as one of the many that he had borrowed from the library's collection a week ago.

"Where did you get this?" he asked curiously, and no sooner had the question escaped his lips than he remembered the plans the three of them had made at lunch. Smacking his forehead with his palm, he winced, peering at Hermione guiltily from under his hand. "I forgot to meet you guys."

Hermione snorted. "That much is obvious," she said, raising her eyebrows at him. "And we took the books from your room. I hope you don't mind, but I have a master key and you weren't exactly around to ask...."

"No, not at all," said Harry, flipping through the pages of '_The Legend of Godric Gryffindor_.' He paused briefly at an illustration of the sword he had retrieved from the Sorting Hat years ago in the Chamber of Secrets before moving on. "So did you find out anything about Hirtus Figulus?"

Frustrated, Hermione shook her head. "Hardly a thing so far, I'm afraid. Just that-"

A bang at a closed window across the room interrupted her. Glancing around the room, Harry noticed for the first time that the three of them were alone in the Common Room, the rest of Gryffindor having doubtlessly gone to dinner already.

"Probably an owl," he said, and had stood to go let it in when Ron beat him to it. Not recognizing the rusty colored bird that flew in carrying an enormous package, Harry sat back down. Ron was about to rejoin Hermione on the couch when the owl landed on the gangly boy's shoulder, dropping its heavy burden in front of him.

Blinking, Ron merely looked at it in puzzlement for a second before tearing at the brown paper. He removed a piece of parchment from inside, his head cocked to the side.

"There's a letter from Mum," he said, his eyes scanning it quickly. As he reached the bottom of the page, a huge grin stretched across his face, and he eagerly began digging into the package, withdrawing multiple articles of clothing. "Look!" Ron beamed, holding up a red shirt with a giant yellow 'R' on the front.

"It's a bit early for Christmas presents, isn't it?" Hermione frowned, but Ron shook his head patiently.

"This isn't for Christmas," he corrected her with a breathless laugh. "Mum's decided to start a clothing line! Some crazy big-wig fashion wizard saw one of her jumpers and thought they would sell. In exchange for 30% of whatever profit they make, he's helped front some money to get her designs on all types of clothes. They're gonna sell them at Fred and George's shop! Here, she sent samples for the three of us and Ginny."

"That's fantastic, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed. Harry just gave an uneasy smile, unsure of whether his friend was still angry with him.

This went unnoticed by Ron, who excitedly began sifting through the assortment of clothes, separating the H, R, and G insignias. The owl that was resting on his shoulder nipped at his ear gently before taking off out the window, undoubtedly heading for the Owlery for refreshment.

Chewing on his lower lip, Ron stared in confusion at the 'H' pile. "Uh, I guess the more girly ones are for you, Hermy," he said, handing her a couple of shirts. "And I think these must be yours, Harry."

Harry hesitated before accepting the garments offered to him. "Thanks, but I thought you weren't talking to me," he said apprehensively, half expecting Ron to yank them back at the reminder.

But the Gryffindor Keeper just ducked his head sheepishly and shrugged. "Well, it's not like I was going to stay mad at you forever anyway," he said, looking at Harry directly for the first time since the raven-haired boy had entered the Tower. "I hate it when we have a row, I shouldn't have gone nuts like that. Alright?" He gave a small smile which Harry gratefully returned.

"Yeah," replied Harry happily. "We're good." Looking back down at the clothing in his lap, Harry held up a thin goldenrod shirt emblazoned with a spring-green 'H' when an idea came to him. "The three of us should wear these to dinner. You know, to advertise for your mum."

Ron's eyes lit up. "Good thinking!" He picked up the red shirt again and quickly changed into it, carelessly dumping the dirty top he'd been wearing onto the pile set aside for Ginny. "You two had better hurry if we want to make it to the Great Hall before they stop serving, though."

Glancing down at himself, Harry realized he was still dressed in his Quidditch robes. "I'll be right back!" he promised over his shoulder as he raced up the stairs to his dorm, his arms full of clothes, while Hermione dashed off to the suite she had earned for becoming Head Girl.

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Spending time with Ron and Hermione had helped Harry to almost forget that he still had to meet with Malfoy after dinner for detention. Of course it was impossible to completely forget, what with the blonde sitting just across the Great Hall during the entire meal. He did his best to keep from staring at the handsome boy, trying to focus on his food and the chatter of his fellow housemates instead.

That Crabbe and Goyle weren't at their typical stations next to Malfoy hadn't passed Harry's attention, however. Apparently the Slytherin threesome hadn't made up yet, unlike the Gryffindor friends. While Malfoy didn't have a visible mark on him, Goyle had a nasty bruise on his right cheek and a bandage on the bridge of Crabbe's flat nose suggested that Madam Pomfrey had refused to fix a broken bone as a punishment for fighting. Harry also couldn't help noticing, with increasing discomfort, that the two hulking Slytherin bullies had kept their eyes trained on the black-haired boy the entire time they greedily shoveled beef stew into their mouths.

Time had gone by more swiftly than Harry would have liked, and now he found himself heading for the library yet again, his pace deliberately slow. His heart was already beating hard in anticipation of being alone with his rival, despite his aversion.

With each step he took towards his fate, he tried to convince himself that he didn't want to be with Malfoy, but it was useless. The _Coeur Cassé _hadn't influenced the way he felt about the other boy in the slightest. If anything, their almost intimate encounter on the Quidditch field that afternoon seemed to have broken some part of Harry's spirit, making it impossible for him to lie to himself anymore.

Harry Potter was inexplicably falling in love with Draco Malfoy.

A/N: Thank you, reviewers!!! I hope you're still reading!!!

Bluebutterfly9: I'm glad you liked chapter 5 despite the lack of action! No, Hermione wasn't the one to find him, so I'm afraid she's still in the dark!! Since I've been so awful for not updating, I'll let you know that someone will become privy to Harry's secret in Chapter 8 ïï¾Š. But I'm not saying anything about future snogs for now!!

Usually Immaculate Aristocrat: Uh, guess I didn't get your "update soon" message, eh? You gave a VERY good guess about the potion, but that's not exactly accurate. You'll see what I mean in later chapters! And yes, Harry sucks at French, LOL.

Lully: Thank you so much! I think it's shaping up nicely, too, though when the entire fic is done I'm sure I'll make a revised edition or something. I think it's hard for a writer to ever be fully satisfied with their work, you know? But this piece is turning out to be more intricate than even I anticipated when coming up with the story to begin with. Oh, and I agree- fanon Draco is lots of fun.

Hoopla: I feel so ashamed as I'm typing up these responses, but even more when I'm typing them to the faithful readers who constantly reviewed and supported this story, such as yourself! But I did promise that I would never call it quits or leave this as a dead fic, and I won't! Half a year later and I'm back, LOL. I'm thrilled that you've been enjoying the fic thus far, and hope that you pick back up in reading it! Harry's not in denial anymore, so things are going to be changing from now on, though I'm afraid I left it at another cliffhanger of sorts. Oh, and I hope you had luck in choosing a college! I just graduated college in May, so I can say with conviction that you're in for a challenging but definitely worthwhile time. Sorry for the short teaser, and I know I haven't let you all know what the potion did exactly, but I'm sure you have an idea now. It'll become more obvious in the next chapter. You'll see! ;-)

Sae Matsumoto: Thanks so much!! Yes, plots always help make a story better, LOL.

Fatty: Wow, thank you so much for the compliment! Draco definitely will be acting like a little git for a while, don't worry. I agree that his bad attitude is what makes him so interesting. Sorry for the absurdly long wait for this chapter!

Baby Ty Ty: Thanks so much! Ooh.... Steamy? Nice word! Yes, this will be a long one. In fact, it keeps growing on me. This chapter was going to have a few more scenes, but then it would have been crazily long, so I've decided to put them in Chapter 7 instead. Glad you like it so far!

Hpgryffin: Thanks and your welcome!!! You haven't updated your story either, so I know you'll sympathize with me on writers block, etc!

A reader: Thank you!! I'm sorry I fell off the face of the fanfic planet and didn't update for so long, but I'm back. Well, there was SORTA steamy action in this one, if stupid Crabbe hadn't interrupted. I'm curious: how do all the readers want the potion to work?? I already know what it did, of course, but it'd be fun to hear what you think!

Yxonomei: Thanks so much! Now that I've brought my fic back from the abyss, I hope you do the same!!

Liggles and the egg: I'm sooooooooo so so so so so SO sorry for the wait!!!! Things were so completely insane for so long, but life seems to be getting back in order. I'm trying to find a job right now, but I'll do my best to not let that distract me from the fic again. While finishing this chapter, I found that the best way for me to get some productive writing done is by going to a café for a few hours, ala JKR, so I'll try to continue doing that!

Brenna8: Feel free to throw sharp pointy things, LOL!!! I earned them!!

Marishamarish: You're gonna have to wait a bit more to learn exactly what it does, but I'm sure you can make a good guess with this chapter.

Tommi/Dragon-Wolf: I'm glad it caught your eye! Sorry for the teaser and the long wait!!! I hope the almost Harry/Draco love in this chapter makes up for it!

Iliana: Ah! I AM!! ;-)

Arafel2: Thanks so much!!

Pegasus: Thanks so much! Yes, real life does make finding time for fanfiction tricky, especially when one's muse seems to have dropped off the planet! Hopefully she's back for good, however, and the writing process will be easier now that school is finished for good! I'm glad you think Harry and Draco are in character! It's proving very challenging to do that as their relationship changes.

Smilez: Here it is!! The real update!!! I'm so glad you're liking the story so far! This isn't going to be a veela-fic, though, so you'll have to guess again!! ;-)


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